


The Key

by Imogen74



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Books, Dragons, F/M, Fan theories a plenty, Kings Landing, Longing, Post Season Six, Sex, Tyrion loves Dany, Tyrion x Dany, War, jonsa, outings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 17:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 80,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10701804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen74/pseuds/Imogen74
Summary: Post season six. War is brewing just as Dany ascends to the Throne. And her Hand loves her.What happens when Tyrion loves a Queen he fears he can never have?





	1. Chapter 1

The sea was lulling to him, even though anticipation coursed through like an antidote and swayed his senses. He was standing next to her, the Queen, the Khaleesi, his Queen.

Tyrion, it was true, doubted his resolve in the vast undertaking Daenerys had set before them all. He doubted the Unsullied, the Dothraki, the Iron Born. He doubted whether Cersei would let him live. Whether Jamie would forgive him for murdering their father.

All this he doubted, and more. He was prone to doubt, for it was in his nature to do so. 

But he did not doubt her, so when she said this would be done, he believed her. He believed that Daenerys would conquer Westeros and sit on the Iron Throne.

Tyrion left her side for the first time since boarding, and went to the deck below. He poured himself some wine and drank deeply…its medicinal effects were felt immediately and he sighed. 

“You drink too much for any man, let alone a man of your…”

“Don’t,” he held up a finger. “Say it.”

Varys laughed a touch and sat across from him. “When will you give up this endless drowning? You’re too bright for it.”

“I drink because nothing else does what this lovely liquid does, Varys. I’ve sought to find its replacement. Do let me know if you find such a thing,” and he downed the wine.

“Our Queen will need you to be lucid once we reach the shore. She is counting on it.”

Tyrion did not look at him, but poured some more. “And by the time we reach Westeros, I shall be.”

Varys cleared his throat and looked at him with a question on his face. “Are you worried about seeing your siblings?”

“I’ve heard what Cersei has done. No one will support her. Perhaps not even Jamie.”

“It’s shocking, really,” and he sat back. “I can see many, many things coming. Cersei destroying the Sept was not one of them.”

“My lovely sister is ruthless, and with all of her children gone now, she is positively terrifying.”

“She would like to see you dead,” Varys observed. 

“Thank you for that,” he drank more and poured more in turn.

After another smile, he replied. “Why are you down here? You’ve been named Hand of the Queen. You should be at her side, as any Hand would.”

Tyrion did not immediately answer. He too sat back in his chair, then looked at the eunuch with a puzzled look painted on his visage. “I find the sea air unsettling.”

“You find it unsettling.”

“That’s right,” and more wine slid down his throat. “Tell me, Varys, does it cause you disquiet to know everything there is to know, except what goes on in people’s heads?”

“That is easier to discover than you think.”

“Probably, but I prefer to think of my own mind as just that. My own mind. You can attempt to unlock the many rooms which I keep things away from the prying ears of your little birds, but if I confide in no one, then it stands to reason that no one will ever know.”

“Occasionally, a man’s secrets are painted in his looks, and not what he says explicitly.”

At this, Tyrion paled, for though he knew what ailed him, he had not even admitted it to himself, and as adept as Varys was at deciphering looks, well. He might need to be especially cautious. He deflected with a laugh. “It’s probably indigestion you mistake for murderous intent.”

“…or lovelorn drunkards with an aptitude toward witticisms and pithy observations.”

He stared at him…surely he could not have discovered…”Varys, your cryptic words mean nothing to me. Perhaps you should start drinking, it would at least give you an excuse for your bizarre behavior.”

The eunuch stood. “Don’t waste all of your time here, Tyrion. You are the Queen’s closest and most trusted advisor now. She expects you near her,” and he left.

She expects me to be near her…

And part of him felt comfort in that. And part of him felt guilty for encouraging her to dismiss Daario. 

He had said that he wanted her to be free of all binds when landing on Westerosi shores…and he did.

…but there might have been more to it than that.

Though he never admitted such a motive. 

Tyrion looked at the bottle. “Why there’s but a drop left,” and he poured it into his glass. “Sometimes,” he said, as he held the bottle between his fingers. “You are my only friend in the world.”

“I’d be very sorry, after our time together, that you don’t consider me at all a friend,” Daenerys was standing in the doorway, a slight smile on her face. 

He stood, knocking the chair over with his abruptness…”Was I needed….?”

“No. I merely wondered where you were. I did not need to think hard,” and her smile grew. “You will be able to offer counsel after all that wine, I trust?” and she walked into the room.

“Of course,” and he picked the chair up. “What advice do you seek?”

“Nothing. I sought my Hand.”

Tyrion cleared his throat. “You can be certain that should you need me, I will be at your side.”

“And how do you propose to do that, Tyrion, when too often the only thing by your side is an empty bottle?”

“I assure you, my Queen, that an empty bottle would never be at my side. Only a full bottle would I bother with.”

She laughed. “See that you’re above deck soon,” she nodded, he bowed, and she left.

He rolled his eyes. What was he doing? He was Hand of the Queen…exactly the position he wished to be in…

…and what he had told her in Mereen was true. Daario was not the first nor the last to love her. A Khal had, and Tyrion sighed. A Khal. 

Jorah, who offered her so much counsel and protection. Nearly died for her.

And Daario, one of the handsomest men in Essos. Probably Westeros, too, if he was honest.

And a dwarf. An imp. An ugly, hated, mocked, drunkard, who could not even secure his own father’s affection. 

Everyone loved Daenerys Stormborn.

No one loved Tyrion Lannister, save one whore. And she was wooed by his own father. 

Yes, he thought. He loved her. He had fought the impulse, and he failed. 

There must be something intoxicatingly magical about her, that she could ensnare so very many…

And something idiotic about him that he fell for it, too. 

He stared out of the smallish window of the ship. He felt like a fool. He would need to check himself. He was the Hand of the Queen now. No time for ridiculous romantic temptation. 

Romance…and a slight reflection of his face was caught in the window against the salt sea…

…he threw his glass at it, and turned to leave for the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

“It is but half a day more, Lord Tyrion,” said one of the hands on the deck.

He nodded, not really paying much attention. Instead, he walked to the side of the ship and peered out into the expanse of the sea. The sight was formidable and grave: one thousand ships sailing along the dark waters. He thought that he was very glad to be among the invaders…

He looked over to Grey Worm and Missandei, both speaking in hushed tones not far from where Deanerys stood. 

She appeared as majestic as ever, naturally leading great armies and ships over the sea. 

She had no idea what was in store for her, and it was he, Tyrion, who must prepare her. 

He looked away from the scene, thinking that he should counsel her before they land. It would be foolish and indeed, a poor choice for a Hand, to not do so. Precious few noblemen had travelled all of Westeros. He was in a unique position to offer her a complete view of what he saw and knew. 

But first he would have some more wine.

“Tell me, you who swab the deck with such vigor, can you direct me to more wine? Or is your expertise limited to cleaning the teak of these ships?”

The hand bowed and nodded. “There are stores, m’lord, down below…”

“And if that is gone?”

The hand paled. “I…”

“As I thought,” and he looked over to the ship just a stone’s throw from where he stood. “You there!”

One of the hands looked up, confused. He pointed to himself, a question painted on his face. And though Tyrion couldn’t get a proper view, he knew this would be a chore. 

“Yes, you! You, standing there with your pecker in your hand! Have you wine on that vessel? Or have the drunkards drained it all?”

“Ah…I think there are bottles still!”

“Excellent,” he muttered. “This drunkard has emptied ours,” he pointed to himself. “Send someone over with your stores immediately!” the hand stared at him. “That means now. Do it now!” 

And the hand scurried off. 

“What an obedient fellow he is,” and Tyron turned to the swabbing hand. “When he returns with their bottles, send them down below to the map room,” and he turned away. He walked over to the threesome staring out into the sea, Westeros not yet visible…”It won’t appear by will alone,” he observed, and Grey Worm looked at him confusedly. “Westeros,” Tyrion supplied. “We still have some time before we will be able to see it.”

No answer.

“You two make the perfect pair. Somehow, you communicate without speaking, save some whispers.”

Missandei smiled. “We speak quite frequently, Lord Tyrion.”

Grey Worm was frowning. 

And Tyrion stood back. “I hope so. He is a fraught one, and I don’t think that he likes me very much.”

Missandei laughed now. 

Tyrion smiled and turned his attention to the Queen, her back toward them all, looking out into the expanse. He approached her cautiously, for though his recent realization should not effect his abilities as the Hand, he wondered at it effecting his ability to speak. “Pardon me, my Queen,” he said, now reaching her side, but not looking at her. “If I might suggest, once you have thoroughly examined these waters and determined that they are salty and black, perhaps you might consider joining me in the map room below. I thought that I might give you some insight on what you can expect upon landing.”

Daenerys was smiling at his humor, though he did not see it. She looked at him. “What more can you offer? I have received much in terms of information from a variety of counsel, including yourself.”

“Well, seeing as how I am a Lannister, and the Lannister armies hold King’s Landing. And the Queen sitting on the Iron Throne at present is my sister,” he looked at her now. “I believe I am uniquely qualified to offer you detailed information about what to expect. But, as always, it is your decision,” he nodded, and looked out once more. 

“Yes it is,” she smiled. “Very well, Hand of the Queen. I shall join you momentarily. There is a bit of black water just beyond that I am not convinced is as black as the rest, and I must examine it more closely.”

At his, he looked at her, shocked that she made reference to his joke, shocked more that she attempted to make her own joke. He smiled. He nodded…he wanted to respond…cleared his throat. “I await your presence, then,” and he turned and left.

How silly that a small thing like an acknowledgment of his joke should render him so fraught. 

Though, he thought as he descended the stairs, she seldom smiled. Or laughed. That was likely the cause for his unease. He was able to make her smile, something precious few could boast.

Perhaps he should be satisfied with that victory and move on, away from the unattainable…the thing he could barely admit to himself.

The hand had dutifully deposited the bottles on the smallish table next to the massive one holding the map of Westeros. Tyrion poured himself some, and drank deeply. Daenerys knew much of his history, most of which he had never told her; she had discovered it from other sources. 

He didn’t know how to feel about this. Most knew of him, most despised him in turn. This, in and of itself, was not concerning. 

But with Deanerys knowing, he felt some pull to clear his history up. Yes, he had done some awful things. Yes, he regretted some of those things.

Though he wanted, really, to be able to address them with her and explain…

“You finished the wine, and sent for more?” 

He turned to see the Queen approaching him, running her finger along the edge of the table with the maps. 

He swallowed. “I am no quitter,” he replied. “And resourceful, at that.”

“It is fortunate that I have a steadfast and resourceful Hand,” she smiled. “Now,” she folded her hands in front of her. “What would you like for me to understand?”

He looked at her…”Wine, my Queen?”

“I don’t drink it.”

“You should,” and he sat, then indicated that she should as well. “You might find it soothing when dealing with the likes of my sister.”

Daenerys then sat across from him. “I prefer to be lucid when dealing with my enemies.”

“Lucidity is an overrated state, in my opinion. Cersei inspires such malignant irritation and anger that dulling my senses was the only way I found that I could manage interactions with her,” and he drank at the thought of his sister, the Queen.

Daenerys looked at her hands folded in her lap. “She is ruthless, I understand.”

He looked at her, though she was not returning his gaze. “You have no idea.”

She looked at him now. “Explain, then.”

Before he could answer, he poured more wine, attempting to clear away frayed thoughts of Cersei’s hatred for him. He minded only but little, he never actually felt as though he was part of the Lannister family. But still, one would hope that, when it came to family, one would be at least accepted a bit. 

He wasn’t. Well. Jamie had. 

He looked at Daenerys with a bit of a sad look he wasn't aware he was making. 

“Is it that bad? You, who are so logical and sound? My most trusted advisor…” and she smiled at him slightly. “I can deal with a maniac, Tyrion. You never met my own family.”

“No,” and he drank once more.

“And I can tell you that my own brother, whom I loved, told me that he would have Khal Drogo’s entire army fuck me if it meant he could use them to take back the Iron Throne,” she paused, looking at his face. “You appear to be shocked.”

“That is because I am.”

“I wasn't always the Queen you know,” and she looked out the small window. “I’ve been bought and sold, terrified and humiliated. I know what it means to not own your own life,” she looked at him once more. “Simply by virtue of who you are, being born into this world. I am a woman. Those slaves whom I freed were born into slave families. You are an imp,” she nodded. “We have done nothing save be born. That is no crime.”

“Indeed no. It is not.”

“So…tell me. What horrors await me at King’s Landing?”

He sat back in his chair. “Cersei, whether through her own fault or not, has lost all of her children,” and he drank. “It is a shame, really, for that role humanized her in a way that nothing else ever did.”

“She loved her children?”

“Oh yes. And Tommen and Marcella were lovely, really. Joffery was a beast, and likely even more insane than his mother.”

She smiled. “Such love for your nephew, Lord Tyrion.”

He then returned her smile. “He was vile. Even though I did not murder him, I had contemplated it on several occasions.”

“And now you confess murderous intent. I am no priest…” and she laughed.

…and the joy he felt at her ease with him was palpable. “You’ll do, my Queen. At any rate, you should know that Cersei now has nothing left to lose. Everything that was good in her is now gone, for her love for our brother I really cannot call good.”

“So…the rumors are true, then?”

“Which? The ones that my siblings are fucking? Yes. Those are true.”

Daenerys cleared her throat. 

“Apologies for my indelicate remark.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate the frankness.”

He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that, though I’m positive that nearly everyone knows, or at least, suspects, that those were not Baratheon children.”

“She has absolutely no claim to the Throne,” Daenerys sat back, an odd position for her.

“That is not true. She has more than any of her children. She was Robert’s wife.”

“The usurper,” she said, with a cock of her brow.

His face changed, and he appeared to be slightly unsettled…”I do not wish to engage in this type of historical banter, your grace.”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Then what sort of banter do you wish to engage in?”

“To advise you, on no uncertain terms, that Cersei is formidable, if only because she is the son my father always wanted.”

She held his gaze steadily. “What do I do?”

That was the question…”You do not speak to her at the outset. Send someone else. She will be waiting to pounce…when she denies you,” he leaned in a touch. “Flatten her with all the might your dragons can muster.”

“You wish for me to hide behind my dragons and send someone in my stead to negotiate?”

Yes, but only because I fear for your life if you do otherwise. “It is sound advice.”

“Whom shall I send?”

He drank his wine deeply. “Me.”

“You?”

“Yes. Doesn’t it make sense for me to go? Her little brother?”

Daenerys did not laugh. “As I understand it, she means to have you killed.”

“Cersei means for much to happen. Things seldom happen the way she means.”

“No,” it was an emphatic reply for so short a word.

“Your grace, if you allow me…”

“No. I named you Hand of the Queen. What am I to do if my Hand gets himself killed?” she rose from her seat. “If what you say about your sister is true, then I will not risk your life. I can face this Mad Queen. I am likely not so different from her in ways you may not see.”

“My Queen, I will not allow it,” and he stood. “She is dangerous…vile, and now, utterly mad. She will be expecting you to make a mistake. This is that mistake.”

Daenerys smiled at him. “You are forbidding me?”

“I…” and his gaze dropped. He cleared his throat. He shifted his weight a bit…”I am advising you in the most severe language I know how. Send someone else. If it not be me, someone whom you trust.”

“Everyone I trust I value. I cannot spare a life.”

He looked at her solemnly. “Cersei used wildfire to kill hundreds at the Sept. the Sept was filled with her enemies, but also held many innocents. She has no limits. She is now surrounded by enemies…she has only the Lannister armies and Jamie. That is not enough to stave you off, and she knows it,” he paused. “She is dangerous, because she is not nearly as smart as she thinks she is.”

“She may be smarter than you think.”

“She isn’t,” and he drank deeply and sat down once more.

“She is desperate and dull, then? What have I to fear?”

“Desperation is the most dangerous of characteristics, Daenerys. You must have seen enough of this world to understand that.”

She looked at him quizzically, and with a thoughtful glance, went to the map on the table. “Come, Hand of the Queen. Let us discuss the plot my generals have outlined.”

He hesitated for a moment, then slid off the chair, and drink in hand, met her at the table, Westeros but a drawing…

…the land itself drawing ever nearer.


	3. Chapter 3

The ships were barely visible in the dark of the night, but he could see them rising up through the dim, biding their time…  
They didn’t know what he knew…the green glow staying its wait…the Baratheon forces closing in on King’s Landing and the Lannister army…

Tyrion opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep, Daenerys long gone from the room.

He sat up in a panic. How foolish had he been not to have remembered just how vast the stores of wildfire were! 

Surely she did not use all of it on the Sept. He got up and left the map room, looking for Varys. 

There was a red glow emanating from the horizon…dawn was approaching, and King’s Landing was just another hour from where they were. They would soon reach the lookout islands, and the crows would be sent to the Red Keep…

Tyrion was slightly panicked. He didn’t make mistakes like this ordinarily, but, he supposed that he had been so distracted by other goings on that the mistake was made.

The Hand should not make such errors, lest they lose their position, if not their life. 

“You there,” he said to one of the deck hands. “Have you seen Lord Darys?”

The hand looked up. “Yes. He’s just returned from one of the other ships. He went below.”

“Fetch him for me at once,” concern etched on his face. 

The hand nodded and ran below.

Foolish error! He knew that the wildfire stores were vast, though it was impossible to know just how much Cersei used. 

He wrung his hands in agitation…

“You summoned me, my lord?” his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tyrion turned to see Varys appear from the below decks. “The wildfire, how much did Cersei use?”

“Quite a lot, I imagine. She leveled the Sept and some streets surrounding.”

Tyrion began to pace. “There’s more though, isn't there? Aerys had vast amounts all over the city’s underground…I only saw a piece of the stores.”

“What are you saying?”

He stopped. “I’m saying that she knew how I defeated the Baratheon navy at the Battle of Blackwater, and she will do the same to us. If she knows,” he approached Varys. “…just how much wildfire there is, she will have no compunction to use it against our ships. She is not bright enough to come up with an original plan, so she will steal mine just as she stole Aerys’.”

Varys looked out onto the sea’s dawn. “We should halt and drop anchor for a bit to decide what to do. If the dragons are used, the entire city will explode. If they are not, she will blow us all to WInterfell.”

Tyrion sighed and rubbed his face. “Allow me to think a moment. Go summon our Queen. I should have a plan by the time you return.”

Varys looked at him. “I knew that you would do some good.”

“This is good? I have done nothing but wake you in a panic. Wait until I begin my machinations,” he smiled. “Cersei believes herself to be the only callous Lannister. She has so much to learn.”

“Hopefully she will never have the chance,” and Varys walked away.

…and Tyrion began to think…what would cause her to panic? What would be the catalyst to use the wildfire, and how to avoid that?

The anchors fell, accompanied by some grumblings. 

The Imp walked about the highest deck, and realizing he was without his wine, began to descend the stairs.

“You are leaving, just when I arrive?”

He turned to see Daenerys approaching him, and he marveled at how she looked so very much the same, even when aroused from sleep. “No, of course not,” he smirked. “I have been speaking with our friend here, and it seems that I may have underestimated the amount of wildfire hidden under King’s Landing.”

The Queen sighed, looked at Varys. “It was not all used in the destruction of the Sept?”

“It is impossible to know, your grace. But your father the King had tons of it stashed away. It is, upon reflection, unlikely that it all was used for that one purpose.”

She nodded. “Well then. We must confer. I see that we have been anchored. That was wise…” she went to the helm, and spoke with the captain. 

Tyrion and Varys looked at one another. “And what have you come up with as an unassailable plan?”

“Nothing is unassailable, Varys. However, I may have something we can do to avoid total annihilation.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” he smiled.

Tyrion offered him a look that suggested he nothing more would be discussed until they adjourned to the map room. 

Daenerys approached them, and led the pair downstairs. Upon entering the map room, she procured herself some wine, and poured two more goblets, handing them to Tyrion and Varys. “So,” she said, sipping. “We have halted our advance. I suppose this is, ultimately, a good thing, seeing as how we are not assured of how much wildfire Cersei has under King’s Landing. One would have thought that either your birds could have told us,” she looked at Varys. “Or the former Hand of the King, he who defeated Baratheon navies with the fire, presently Hand of the Queen,” she smirked at Tyrion, “…would have this information. I have been acting on the assumption that it had all been used on the Sept,” she sipped again. “I suppose this was hasty.”

“Not hasty, your grace. But you are right in assuming that your advisors have made a slight blunder. One I can assure will not repeat itself,” Tyrion said with confidence. 

“Good,” she looked at Varys. “What is the plan?”

 

The three of them stayed below deck and far from the sight of the barrier islands for four hours. The crews were getting anxious, for the anticipation of battle grew ever like an itch among the warriors. They needed the heat and the promise of conquest, and their Queen was seemingly reluctant to oblige.

Finally, Grey Worm spotted the three emerging from the below deck, and he nudged Missandei. “There, at last,” and he stood. 

Missandei followed his suit, and stood, smoothing out her skirts, taking note of the colder air blowing eastward. “We will need different clothing. It appears to be much colder here.”

Daenerys approached them with a nod and went to the captain. 

Tyrion and Varys both approached them, concerned looks about them. 

Grey Worm was the first to speak. “What is happening with our Queen? She does not look to be pleased.”

“Daenerys is coming to the conclusion that this invasion will be more irritating than grand, as is the case with nearly every encounter with a Lannister,” and Tyrion sipped.

“I know what you mean,” Grey Worm replied through squinted eyes.

“Now you make jokes?” Tyrion replied, exhausted. “Tell me, Missandei, is his timing always like this? I imagine you would know.”

At this, Varys leaned down and whispered something to Tyrion, right after Missandei cleared her throat. 

“But surely there are other ways…” said Tyrion,

Varys continued to whisper. 

“Yes yes. Very well,” and Tyrion left the circle. 

Grey Worm followed him with his eyes, and Missandei slid her arm through his. 

 

Tyrion watched as Daenerys spoke with her captain. She was assured and commanding, and he could see that she would not be doubted. He wondered slightly at that, for he rarely experienced such confidence from others. He himself had marginal confidence in himself, but to have the unyielding belief from others was a foreign experience for him. 

She nodded and turned away. Tyrion straightened his back and lifted his chin as she approached him. “I trust that all went well?”

“The ships will begin their approach at sundown. He is making the announcement to the others,” and she held the rim of the ship.

“It is a better plan in the long run, your grace.”

“I hope so. There are a lot of souls on these waters. A lot I am responsible for.”

“There will be losses,” he said, looking at her solemnly.

“I know. And I know that I cannot guarantee anything. But I will win, one way or another.”

“That I believe,” and he sipped his wine. “Did I ever tell you that I have seen all of Westeros?”

She looked at him. “Yes, I’m sure you have,” and she smirked.

“I have many thrilling tales to relate. Perhaps you might join me for some wine and I can spin my story while we wait for the sun to set.”

“No wine, thank you. But I’d be glad to listen to your stories,” and with that, she followed him to the back of the ship where they sat while he spoke.

 

“Did the little boy really tell his mother that he wanted to see you fly?”

“He did,” and he drank. “Fortunately, I prefer my feet on the ground. But then, you have flown.”

She sat back. They had been talking for a couple of hours, and she had heard him tell her of the Wall, and WInterfell, and the Eyrie…”I have.”

“On the back of a dragon, no less.”

She smiled. “Would you expect anything else from the mother of dragons?”

“I’d be disappointed otherwise,” he paused. “What is it like? Riding a dragon?”

Daenerys looked to the sky. Drogon was circling overhead waiting for them to set sail again. “It is like…” she looked down to the floor. “Like…losing your balance on a mountain, but not being afraid of the fall.”

“Are you afraid of this fall, Daenerys?”

“I’m afraid, as I had told you in Meereen, but not the way you think.”

“Yes. You are afraid of becoming heartless,” he looked out into the sea and downed the rest of his wine.

She took the glass from him. “You drink too much. I need you to be in possession of your faculties this evening. You will be meeting your sister, and I worry at both of your reactions.”

“Fear not, your grace. The less I have in terms of faculties, the more likely I am to succeed in tripping up Cersei.”

She was not amused.

“Oh very well. Everyone is always telling me that I drink too much. Fuck too much. Well, I say that if I did not do those things, there would be little in terms of joy in my life,” and he sat back, in a slight pout.

Daenerys appeared to be slightly affronted as she turned her attention to Drogon above. “Your life is about to change, Lord Tyrion. Stomping your feet and pouting does not recommend you for the station you have earned.”

“It’s funny about change. Yes, I am the Hand of the Queen, but I was Hand of the King. And though when I last saw King’s Landing I was in a box, I was still on a ship. And I left immediately following the death of one of my nephews. It seems that the gods are willing me to live in an endless circle.”

Daenerys stood. “You are nothing like that person. The person I have named my Hand is wise and quick. He understands things that no one else does, sometimes because he has suffered, but more often due to his own wit and wisdom. If I hear you wallow in self pity again, I shall tear that pin from your shirt,” she heaved. “And since you won’t, I know I shall be the luckiest Queen in the seven that ever ruled. I could not ask for a more capable Hand,” and she turned and walked away from him.

Tyrion closed his eyes.

And his heart swelled at her speech, for no one had ever recognized his gifts so utterly, save perhaps his brother. 

He stood, and watched at the sun began its descent in the west…

The ships would begin their march in under an hour once more.


	4. Chapter 4

The armor had been fashioned by order of the Queen. It hang heavy but was a good fit, and he adjusted the chainmaille to suit his arm. 

“Where is the wine? I had it just here.”

“Oh…” the lady looked around. She had been there to help with getting his armor on; Tyrion Lannister of a year ago, or indeed, a month ago, would have sought her for sexual favors. Perhaps given her some gold for some release before the battle.

But now, he had no desire for such pursuits. In fact, he thought that he may be giving it up altogether. Shae had ruined that delight somewhat for him.  
Danaerys Stormborn had positively driven it from his thoughts. He desired no other woman. Yet he desired her only the way one may desire riches the way a pauper might. Power the way a slave might…  
Beauty the way an imp might.  
In other words, without conviction nor hope of ever obtaining that desire.   
It was a pathetic enterprise and he knew it. Was whoring over for him? Perhaps. 

So he would drink all the more.

“…I believe you finished the wine, Lord Tyrion.”

“Have I?” he was simultaneously amused and annoyed. “Well, once we reach the land, we can arrange some to be delivered from another one of the ships.”

She nodded, and then left him there. 

Tyrion sighed. Reaching land was something that would be happening within the hour. He would be seeing Cersei. 

He wondered how he would be received. 

With contempt and a sword, most likely. In fact, he rather thought that he would not be surviving the night. 

This realization was not necessarily upsetting. True, he preferred life over death, but he would also have preferred to be taller. Perhaps not handsome, if that meant sacrificing his wit…but taller, yes. He rather thought he was on borrowed time, anyway. So many times he had escaped death, and yet here he stood. Hand of the Queen.

Tyrion left the room and made his way to the above deck where Daenerys and her lackeys were. He smiled. He was one of said lackeys, and there was no place he’d rather be.

May the gods smile on Varys for bringing him to her.

“There it is,” he whispered. “King’s Landing. Or what is left of it.”

He received no response from them, for they were staring at the land…nearly there now.

He looked up. Drogon was flying overhead, keeping a healthy distance from them. Rhaegal and Viserion were further back still…

Varys, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tyrion, and Daenerys were all wearing maille, and some furs as well. The air was decidedly colder than when Tyrion had left the place. 

The ship landed on shore, and the anchor was dropped. Daenerys swallowed, and turned to leave the vessel.

Tyrion looked at the others, then followed her.

They all exited the ship, along with a few of the Unsullied. 

They had not gotten far when they met soldiers in the dim.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

Missandei took a step forward and spoke: “You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn. The Unburnt, Freer of Slaves, Mother of Dragons, Blood of Targeryen, and rightful Queen of this land.” 

“Rightful Queen? We will send word to Queen Cersei that you are here. We’ll see how rightful you are.”

Daenerys looked at Tyrion, and smirked at him, then nodded.

He knew that he shouldn't be nervous. And he wasn’t. 

Except he was, and he hated that he was.

Frightened, not so much. He was prepared to die if need be, which was why he offered to face Cersei alone. 

At her nod, he left the circle. 

The plan was afoot…

 

He made his way around the back of the Keep, seamlessly recalling the way after spending so much time there. He hoped that Varys’ little birds were right…

For if they weren’t, he was a dead man.

The dungeons below gave him a feeling of unease, as he snuck his way around guards and soldiers…most of the strong ones had been summoned for wait closer to the Queen, something that they were all counting on. And he enjoyed some stealth maneuvering because of it. They had planted the seeds very well.

He crept along the dank dark, until he reached the caverns he had recalled seeing so long ago now…

…and there it was.

Wildfire, glowing soft green in the dim. It appeared that Cersei had not moved much, if any, in the destruction of the Sept. This was disconcerting. 

King’s Landing was potentially a time bomb…and if the dragons set any of it on fire, as was the original plan, there would be no King’s Landing any more.

He was sweating though the chill was deep. 

Nerves.

Soft and steady dripping of water could be heard all around him, and he turned. One more stop, then, now that he saw the stores.

This he dreaded. This he knew would be an impossible meeting, though it was equally impossible to know what to expect from it. He exited the underground and up a flight of stairs to the prisoner quarters who were more prized, so to speak.

Tyrion crept along, recalling with vivid detail the passageway to where he had spent so much time following Joffrey’s death. Strange to think how much had occurred in the time since.

He wondered at Daenerys, and the others, some floors above now, probably. Cersei likely accepted them by now. And now Tyrion was relying on Varys to speak for her, protect her…  
…and his heart skipped a beat at the thought.

He should be next to her, facing his mad sister…not scampering the dungeons like a mouse…

Each cell proved to be empty. 

Perhaps the little birds had been mistaken.

…until he found him.

He was slumped against the wall, the moon’s soft light feathered through the bars and dust in the air. 

Tyrion stopped and looked at him, and love welled inside of him, for he thought that he would never see him again. 

Jamie must have heard his breath, for he looked over, and saw his little brother. His feet found the floor, his eyes were wide…

Then his gaze fell, and his head began to shake. “You,” he said. 

“She has made you her prisoner.”

“I need to kill you and make my imprisonment valid,” and he looked at him with slight loathing.

“Slightly difficult considering you are in there, and I am out here.”

“A temporary setback,” and Jamie sat up. 

“She means to set you free, despite the fact that you refuse alliance to her?”

“She loves me.”

“And yet here you are. To be loved by Cersei Lannister is a prison both figuratively and literally. Good thing I never had it.”

Jamie looked at him, and stood. “Why…how are you here?”

“Well, that is an interesting tale, brother. But one whose details should wait. For the immediacy of the moment, I am here to set you free, should you swear alliance to another Queen.”

“Another…?” he paused. “You are speaking of the Targeryen?”

Tyrion nodded.“So. You’ve turned your loyalties to the enemy. You killed our father,” he spat. “Why would I ever, ever do anything for you?”

“Because I am your one hope to get out of here and maintain your honor, or what’s left of it,” and he began to pace in front of the bars. “Cersei killed hundreds of people, the same way King Aerys swore he would. She led Tommen to his death. She is not in her right mind and you know it.”

“She is my sister.”“And I am your brother.”

Jamie laughed. “You killed our parents.”

At this, Tyrion swallowed. “Yes I did. And I do not regret our father, the loveless scoundrel he was. He took everything from me,” he approached even closer now. “Everything. And Cersei is about to take everything from you, unless you promise to aid me in seeing a new Queen sit on the throne.”

Jamie did not answer.

“She is mad, Jamie. As mad as Aerys. You know this. She is not the woman you love any longer.”

“What do you know of love, Tyrion?”

“A great more than you think.”

“Who? The whore who left you for father without a second thought? The woman you murdered?”

Tyrion fought back angry tears. He loathed that Shae, and everything that she represented, could bother him yet. “Yes.”

“She left you.”“And Cersei left you.”

With a withering glare he turned away from him. “I never saw her like that. And to imprison me when I told her what I saw…madness…that she was not fit to rule…” he paused. “I almost did it, Tyrion. I almost killed her when I saw the madness in her eyes.”

He did not respond to this. 

“How could I?” his head fell. “The things I do for love…”

“You can stop, you know. Though we cannot control who we love, we can control how we love.”

“What do you mean?” Jamie asked without turning to face him.

“You can stop acting on love, and start acting on reason. Cersei has abandoned reason. You know this. You can be the reasonable one for the both of you.”

He looked at him from over his shoulder. “And what, do you propose, is reasonable?”

“She is not fit for rule. You could swear your sword to Daenerys Targeryen, and Cersei will be placed on house arrest at Casterly Rock.”

Jamie faced him completely now. “You work for her?” he approached him. “Of course you do. You are…” he glanced at his chainmaille. “You have a position of rank.”

“That’s right. And I can let you out.”

“How?”

And with that, Tyrion held a key from his breastplate. Varys had many duplicates made during his time at King’s Landing. 

“You trust me not to kill you?”

“No. But I trust you to do the right thing. You need to decide if letting me live is the right thing.”

“You are something, Tyrion Lannister,” Jamie said. “How are we still alive?”

He chuckled at that. “I cannot answer that. But I expect it’s something to do with the silver haired Queen a few floors above us.”

Jamie squinted his eyes. “I hear she is beautiful.”

“She is.”

“And commanding.”

“That too.”

“Rather smart,” a smile grew on Jamie’s face.

“More than most.”

“And just, wise, and fair,” he beamed at Tyrion.

“While you list the many virtues of Daenerys Targeryen, we are wasting time in getting to her and getting on with it.”

“Are you in love with her, little brother?” it wasn't a jest, but a bit of disbelief laced in his query.

He sighed. “Do you swear her your allegiance?”

“You are!”

“Jamie, this is tiresome, and you remain behind those bars. Swear allegiance, and we can avoid death and other nasty business.”

“How can I turn my back on Cersei?” his face fell.

With a very steady gaze, he got as close as the bars would allow…”She has abandoned you, brother. I am here.”

Without much ado, without preamble nor utterance, Jamie Lannister nodded his head.

And Tyrion took the key and turned it…

…he knew that Jamie may very well slit his throat at the first opportunity. He knew this, but he wouldn't let him die. This was mostly because he loved his brother, and implicitly trusted him, but also because he really did not fear death. 

He wished he had some wine.

The door swung open, and Jamie stepped out as Tyrion stepped backward. 

“Ready?” Tyrion asked.

“I suppose I need to be.”

And the pair ascended the stairs, both weaponless, to where the two Queens were likely meeting and discussing either terms of surrender, or determining the hallows of war.


	5. Chapter 5

He felt her before he saw her or heard her.

Strange, that…feeling someone’s presence. He had read poets’ accounts of such a phenomenon, but never had he actually experienced it.

Too bad it was his sister’s nefarious self he felt, and not Daenerys’ more benevolent one.

He crept into the Throne Room with Jamie at his side. He wasn't certain how his brother would react once he saw Cersei…he was hoping it would remain as civil as possible.

This was an optimistic thought.

He saw Varys and Grey Worm, Daenerys was not there. This was a bad sign, for either the meeting had progressed very slowly, or very quickly. Neither were particularly attractive prospects. 

Cersei was clad in black, atop the throne, with many advisors and others standing along the outskirts. Qyburn was next to her on her left, but the station of Hand did not appear to be taken, as her right side was vacant. 

Jamie’s gaze, he noticed, had not wavered from her, and Tyrion could not decipher what he was thinking based on that alone. They had not uttered a word in their ascent to the Throne Room, mostly because Tyrion could not speak. 

He believed he was meeting certain death. Cersei would not allow him to live while she did. 

And though he was mute, he was not afraid.

For what, when one has only had one’s wits to recommend them, can one say upon facing death at the hand of one’s sister?

Nothing.

It was then that she saw Jamie, when the silence fell like a shroud on the company. She glared at him, and he approached her. 

Tyrion followed, close behind, hiding, as it were, in his brother’s advance.

“Who let you out?” she asked.

“My own little bird.”

Her brow furrowed, until she saw him…and she blanched…she appeared as though she might be sick. 

And then she laughed.

“Oh, this is a sight! The murderer of my son and father, the imp who saw to my daughter’s death…and my mother…” she ended with a whisper, as she began to walk down the stairs. “You bring him to me, Jamie. I suppose I can forgive your betrayal for this,” she smiled, nearly in front of them now. “How are you still alive?” she shook her head in shock. 

“Cersei, please, end this madness,” Jamie pleaded.

“Be my Hand, swear your loyalty, and everything you want is yours,” she stated simply to her brother. “I’ll even have the Mountain quickly snap his neck so that his death will come quickly, which is more than he did for Joffrey,” she paused. “Or mother.”

“Or our father. Wasn’t too bad, really. It only took a couple of arrows.”

Jamie rolled his eyes.

Cersei’s own eyes went wide as she looked at him. “Seize him,” she said calmly.

“Before you continue with your arrest of me, sister, I would advise you to think hard. Think about why I might be here. Why I set Jamie free. Why Varys is here…”

“What? The little girl with the dragons? She arrived on one ship, with one dragon. As to why you are here, I have no idea…”

He smiled.

All of the false reports that Varys had laid, mostly that day, but also en route to Dorne, proved to be worthwhile…perhaps even effective. 

“…nor do I care,” she continued. “Your story matters little to me. All I want is your head on a spike outside of the Red Keep. Or perhaps I’ll have you stuffed,” she quipped. “A toy as a reminder of the villain who killed my family.”

“Cersei,” Jamie repeated, “Please…”

“What are you begging me for? Your life? His?”

“I’m begging you to step down. This is not where you belong. Where we belong. End it.”

She looked at him with some contempt, and turned away. “Gregor Clegane, take the imp and tear him in two. When you are through with him,” she reached the Throne, “Take my brother back to his cell. He requires more time to think about his alliances.”

At this, Varys took a step closer. “Your grace, I would recommend that you not harm them, and that we can continue our discussion without the threat of violence.”

“Your recommendation is noted, spider. Now why don't you scamper back to where you came from? You have no place here,” she sat upright, and looked down on Tyrion…

He was staring back at her, but his look was unremarkable, considering his sister just ordered him to be torn in two. 

It was then that Jamie began to walk toward her…”Cersei I killed the mad King for the threat of the very thing you committed…”

…The Mountain began to walk toward Tyrion…

“…how can I allow you to continue down this path…?”

“Now you have honor, Jamie?” she asked him as he approached.

“I always have. But my love for you too often stopped it from meaning much,” he reached her…

…The Mountain was about to take Tyrion’s arm…Tyrion, who was watching his siblings, but was having trouble hearing them…

Instead he heard a roar was heard just outside the Keep.

The Mountain stopped.

Cersei looked…

…and Jamie grabbed her, pinning her arms against her sides, and dragged her from the hall.

Drogon’s roar filled the cavernous room, and Tyrion smiled. The dragon was on the outside of the building, which meant that the forces were filling the bay now, and the battle was beginning. 

 

The guardsmen in the room drew their swords. Tyrion and Varys closed in together, while Grey Worm held his weapon at the ready. 

“That dragon will tear the roof off of the Keep,” muttered Varys.

“And so it will be rebuilt. Better the roof than my head,” answered Tyrion.

The guards looked around nervously, confused…without Cersei, and the confusion coming from the roaring, they were all virtually paralyzed. 

“All of you ought to run,” yelled Tyrion as the trio backed away toward the door. “…or if you stay, you are either proclaiming your allegiance to Daenerys Targeryen, or accepting death as your fate. Cersei Lannister’s hours as Queen are coming to a close!” he turned to Varys as they reached the door. “Go to Her Majesty. Tell her that the plan is unfolding, and that we should continue along that track.”

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I’m going to fetch my brother.”

“You can’t!” Varys protested. “That is not part of the plan,” he hissed. “You are the Queen’s Hand. To make a decision like this on the cusp of…”

“I cannot abandon him, Varys. I promised him…” he gave him a sad look. “He was the only one who ever stood by me. I won’t leave him in his darkest hour,” and he turned and left the two to scamper out of the Red Keep.

Tyrion wasn’t sure where they had went, and was equally concerned about the Mountain who had disappeared. Last he knew, the behemoth had orders to tear him in two.

He ran along, quickly as his legs would allow, wanting desperately to call out for Jamie, but knowing to do so would likely result in his death.

Would Jamie kill her? Would they run? Stay and fight? It was impossible to tell. 

All he knew was that the Unsullied were positioning themselves at every entrance to the catacombs to prevent anyone from lighting the wildfire.

The rest of the fleet was in harbor, as well as Rhaegal and Viserion, prepared to light any ship on fire attempting to escape King’s Landing.

The Dothraki and Ironborn were fighting the Lannister forces, and outnumbered them ten to one. 

Daenerys was atop Drogon, likely perched on the Keep. 

It would all end very soon.

But he needed to find Jamie. He needed to make sure that he was safe.

There was so much noise coming from outside the Keep, but inside the castle it was deathly still, that it made for surreal navigation. On he went, listening for any sound at all that would indicate where the pair of them were…

…and he began to think about possible rooms they would hide to talk. 

The Queen’s chambers. 

Tyrion quickly doubled back and headed for the bedrooms, hoping against hope that he wouldn't discover them fucking.

And sure enough, he heard their whispered tones from a few doors away, and, thank the gods, no carnal sounds could be deciphered. 

He crept over to the door, slightly ajar, and heard their conversation…

“We can leave, the two of us, the only ones who matter in this world. Remember, only us, the others be damned?” Jamie was saying. “But only if we leave this place.”

“You want me to leave, to surrender everything I ever fought for?”

“We can go to Casterly Rock. We can live there…”

“You’re a pathetic romantic. Our children are dead. I’ll be dead soon…it’s just as she had told me…as she foresaw…”

“Fuck the prophesy, Cersei. Let’s leave now.”

And Tyrion pushed the door open slightly, for he wanted to speak to Jamie before he lost his senses and tried to sincerely leave with Cersei. 

He opened the door, and saw Jamie’s face, white as paper, looking at him in horror…  
And Cersei turned, and saw him…

…and malicious delight fell over her, she turned then, and Tyrion saw a flash of light, and before he knew what was happening, pain seared through his neck…

…he was dead, and he knew it. She had stabbed him in the neck, at the weakness in the armor. 

But the blade felt stunted, as though it had not penetrated deeply, and his fingers clawed at it, just as he heard Cersei screaming…

“Don’t touch it,” Jamie was saying. “You little fool…I was handling it…”

The blade was removed, and Tyrion gasped. “Here,” and he wrapped his neck with something. “I don’t know if it will do much good, but she didn’t get the blade very deep. You might live,” and he helped him to his feet.

Tyrion was dizzy…he looked behind Jamie and saw Cersei laying in a pool of her own blood.

“And just as I killed Aerys with a sword to the back, so I killed my own sister. I need to retire, little brother.”

He helped Tyrion through the castle, until it was too much for him, and he needed to be carried.

He would have been humiliated, had he not been on the verge of dying. “Is there still screaming?” he thought he said, but judging by Jamie’s look, that wasn’t what Jamie heard.

“Don’t try to talk, Tyrion. We need you to see a Maester, fuck the battle.”

And he nodded, or he thought that he did.

Jamie carried him out of the Keep, since it seemed to him that no one was left inside. 

…and there was Daenerys Targeryen, her monster next to her, and she was standing at the top of the stairs, proclaiming victory at the short lived battle. 

Jamie set Tyrion down…he swayed a bit…

…and then he saw him.

The Mountain…

And he was heading for Daenerys…

Tyrion grabbed Jamie’s sword, and just as the Mountain was within sight of the Khaleesi, just as his back was completely facing Tyrion and Jamie, Tyrion scampered over to Clegane, sword in hand, and sliced open his achilles heel…  
The Mountain fell next to Tyrion, who rolled away from him…

Daenerys turned, and Drogon’s attention was diverted to the ground next to her…

…and with a roar, the enormous dragon ate the Mountain in a bite.

Tyrion’s eyes fell shut…

…and all was blackness.


	6. Chapter 6

He was choking.

No…not choking…he was suffocating…

Tyrion opened his eyes, and felt his throat immediately. Panic overtook him, and he reached for his neck.

“Don’t touch it, my friend. It’ll hurt worse if you do.”

Tyrion looked to where the voice was coming from, and saw Varys sitting next to him, he himself laying in a bed, sitting somewhat up. He looked around to determine if he knew where he was. 

He was in the Hand’s chambers in the Red Keep.

“Can you speak?” Varys asked.

He tried, and the pain was acute. He tried again, and just below his low rumbling, whispered, “Barely.”

“Well, her Majesty will be happy to learn that your voice box was undamaged. You wouldn't be much of an advisor if you could make no sound.”

“Jamie,” he whispered.

Varys sat back. “Jamie is in his old chambers as well. He’s rather stuck there until Queen Daenerys decides what to do with him. Things have been on hold during your…sleep. She had been counting on you to be there for her while she settles King’s Landing.”

He rolled his eyes, and then an idea struck him. He began to mime out writing on paper. 

“Oh, clever,” and the eunuch fetched a quill, ink, and paper. 

Tyrion started to write out something, which he did with purpose, and looked as though he was not hurt at all…  
He handed the parchment to Varys:  
Your jokes are not funny. Do not pretend to be so.  
Please send word to Jamie and the Queen that I am awake.  
How long was I asleep?

“Three days,” replied Varys, as he smiled and folded the paper, and nodded to a guards man just at the door to alert the Queen. “Daenerys has been here several times a day to check on your status. She seems to not care for the Maester here, and has requested that another, more capable one, be sent to care for you.”

Tyrion sat back further into his bed. She sent for a more capable Maester. He looked questioningly at Varys.

“I know what you are asking, but I honestly have no answer. She was beside herself when you fell. Everything stopped, she ordered myself and Missandei to continue her speech to the armies, and she and Jamie saw you inside,” he paused. “She demanded, I understand, that he explain everything that transpired, after a Maester was found and you were taken away to be sewn back up.”

Tyrion’s face contorted a bit. He was getting used to the pain in his neck, though it was humiliating, these goings on. He took another piece of parchment, and began to scribble.

Varys took it from him:  
Well, of course she was concerned. Cersei was dead by the hand of the man she was speaking to. And, as you said, I am the Hand. Any noble ruler would be concerned at their closest advisor being mortally wounded.

“If you like,” he shrugged after reading it.

Tyrion nodded, then instantly regretted it. He cried out, just as Daenerys entered the room.

“Are you in much pain?” she said, rushing to his side. “Of course you are, silly question. You there,” she said to the messenger who brought her. “Bring milk of the poppy for Lord Tyrion.”

He touched her arm, and shook his head, wincing a bit as he did so.

“Can you not speak?” she asked, then looked at Varys.

“He can, you grace. I think it’s muscular, and only the periphery. His voice box is not damaged…he is able to whisper.”

“Good,” and she looked back at him, and sat next to the bed. “I was very worried,” she smiled. “It is good to see you again.”

And he smiled sadly at her. 

He then took the ink and quill and began to scratch out a note.

“He is resourceful, is he not, your grace?”

She smiled and nodded at Varys. “I would expect nothing less.”

Tyrion handed her the parchment…

Please do not concern yourself. I have suffered more than this. It’s but a scratch. I’m sorry that I wasn't well enough to advise you while dealing with the politicals of King’s Landing…I’m certain it was tiresome.  
Have you decided what you will do with Jamie?

Daenerys smiled and folded the note. “It wasn’t horrible. But very different, I admit, than most of my dealings with politicians. As for Jamie,” she sat back some. “I was waiting for you. He saved you, and slew his sister the Queen. I simply don’t know what to do with him, so I have not thought about it.”

He was looking at her steadily. “Don’t kill him,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t,” she smiled. “But I think that he cannot stay here. Where would you like to see him?”

Tyrion shrugged without leaving her face, then regretted it, and cried out. 

She stood. “You will take milk of the poppy while you heal. Varys, please fetch some for him,” and she sat down once more, and took his hand. “I owe your a great deal, Tyrion. The plan worked exactly as you predicted. From planting false reports that I had arrived on one ship, to the Unsullied guarding the catacombs. We simply had no idea that the Lannister forces were so depleted. Though,” she paused. “I understand that some are stationed at Riverrun, too,” she smiled, and let go of his hand. Her eyes fell to her lap. “And you saved my life. You risked your own to save mine.”

He was smiling sadly at her, then dropped his gaze.

“It would seem that I needed your sword as much as your counsel,” she smiled, looking back at him.

He began scratching on the parchment.  
That was a once in a lifetime cut, my Queen. I would not trust me with a sword in future battles.

“I understand that you led King’s Landing to a devastating victory in the battle of Blackwater. You underestimate your abilities, I think,” and she folded the parchment.

By the gods, he loved her…

And it was beginning to show on his face.

She looked at him quizzically. 

And the door opened. 

“Here we are, Lord Tyrion,” said Maester Valance. And he spooned out some milk.

“See that he gets enough, Maester, so that he may sleep soundly. I need him well soon,” and she touched Tyrion’s hand once more. “I will be in later to make certain you are resting,” with that, she left.

Tyrion felt the effects almost immediately, and closed his eyes.

 

It is an odd feeling, slipping in and out of consciousness, and not one that Tyrion cared for, particularly. For two days further he laid in his bed, groggy from the poppy, and barely able to recognize the people who were visiting him.

Daenerys, Varys, and the new Maester floated in and out of his vision…

It was on the third day that he began to make sense of what was happening, and on that day, he refused any more of the medicine. 

He longed to see Jamie, and though the pain was still very real, it had subsided in the healing.

“No more,” he whispered to Maester Papas, the new Maester charged with seeing to him. “I need to get up,” and he sat up, swinging his legs around and sitting fully upright for the first time in almost a week.

“Lord Tyrion, are you certain?”

“I am,” he replied softly.

“Then let me see your wound,” and he began to unwrap it. 

Tyrion watched his face as he unfurled the bandages…he would be able to tell if his person was more monstrous by the reaction of the Maester.

And, judging by it, he wasn't too bad. 

“The stitches are healing nicely. There is some minor swelling still, but your are fortunate that no infection has settled in,” and he set the soiled bandages aside, and began to wrap him afresh. “Perhaps another week with these, and you will be able to let it breathe properly.

“I’ll need to get accustomed to high collar shirts,” he whispered. “A simple enough task.”

Nothing.

No one laughs anymore, he thought. 

Perhaps that was indeed his purpose in this world.

The fires were lit in his rooms, and he thought that the last time he saw a hearth burn in King’s Landing was…”Has winter come?” he asked.

“So says the citadel,” and he packed up some things.

This would make for interesting events. “Where is her Majesty?”

Maester Papas took his bag. “I’m not certain. She was here earlier…I’ll send for her if you like.”

“No,” and Tyrion got fully out of bed. “But I’ll need a chamber maid to help me,” he breathed. 

The Maester bowed, then left him there.

He walked over to the window and looked out into King’s Landing. The place looked colder. 

“You sent for me, my Lord?”

He turned, and saw a devastatingly beautiful woman addressing him.

And he felt absolutely nothing.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I need to get dressed.”

 

He walked slowly along the corridor, mostly because he did not trust any quicker pace yet. He was famished, and dry as a bone.

Oddly, he wanted only water.

But it did feel wonderful to walk about! 

His body had spent much time and energy healing. The blasted thing simply refused to die.

Some day, Tyrion, he thought. Some day…

He was deep in thought, not paying attention, really, when he heard someone approaching him.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Varys demanded as he came into closer view.

“I thought it was time to get some food,” he whispered. “And I couldn’t lie there any longer. Grating on one’s nerves, this healing business.”

“Does her Majesty know?”

“I don’t know. Papas…is that his name? He does.”

Varys nodded. “You gave us a scare.”

“Well, no need to be frightened any longer,” he bounced on his heels. “Tell me, is there food? I’m ravenous.”

Varys laughed at him. “Follow me.”

They made their way to the royal rooms, and Tyrion was suddenly unsure of this, for he knew what Varys was doing. “Is it wise to bother her now?” he asked.

“She’d have my head if I didn’t.”

If could could have cleared his throat comfortably, he would have. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I wish you would stop this…whatever you are doing.”

“Me? I’m not doing a thing,” and they reached the Queen’s rooms, and he knocked.

“Come in,” came her voice from within.

Varys opened the door, and motioned for Tyrion to stay.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, but did not move.

“Hello, Varys,” he heard her say. “What is it?”

“I’ve come with glad tidings,” and he opened the door fully, and Tyrion walked in.

The room was bathed in light, and he saw Daenerys stand as she saw him. 

He walked in fully, smiling softly. “I am sorry to interrupt, but Varys insisted.”

She nodded, and motioned for him to join her. 

He sat, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, and heard Varys leave. “It was only my intention to alert you that I was up and about,” he said very softly, for that was all his injury would allow. 

“I’m glad to see you here,” she replied. “More glad that you are feeling better,” she sipped some wine. “Are you able to eat or drink?”

He nodded, feeling the injury’s pull, and winced. 

“Are you sure you’re better?”

“I’m not. But I cannot stay in that room one minute longer.” and he sipped some water.

“Is this the beginning,” she smiled. “Of the end of your wine consumption?”

“Your grace, I have a neck injury. I still have my wits,” he smiled.

And she chuckled a bit. “Tomorrow, if you are still well, we will begin discussing the fate of many here in King’s Landing. But for now,” and she spooned him some stew. “Please eat and drink. Your energy has been depleted, and I need you to be strong.”

He took a bite, and feeling simultaneously relieved and in pain, he swallowed. 

And the pair spoke but little, opting instead to allow a type of peace to descend as Tyrion fed his body, and Daenerys soothed her fraught mind…for her face steadily lost the worried crease that was etched in her features for over a week as the evening wore on.


	7. Chapter 7

He refused to make anything of this. 

The door clicked shut behind him, and he walked inside his rooms, poured himself some wine, and sat down.

He felt like a fool, and he hated it when he felt foolish. 

For though Tyrion Lannister was many things, a fool was not one of them.

He would need to forget this evening, with all of Daenerys’ attentions to him. Her soft reassurances. Her silent smiles. Her need to see that he ate and drank enough was only so that he would be well tomorrow.

All of these things could be said to have happened due to the fact that she needed his counsel, not that she needed him. She had named him her hand, and though they enjoyed a steady enough friendship, that was really all that it was. 

…but he couldn’t help but notice that her gaze lingered a touch here and there in his direction. That she had touched his hand while he was recovering in his bed. 

He sat down and poured some more wine.

To ponder these things as anything more than what they obviously were would only lead to heartache, and he had had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Tyrion sat back and thought about just how often he had escaped certain death, and what it could possibly mean. Likely nothing at all, but perhaps he was spared repeatedly just so that he could advise this Queen. He had never met her equal, and he had met a lot of people.

It gave him great satisfaction that she would choose him of everyone she had known to advise her. 

He looked out into the night. 

His neck hurt, but the wine was soothing. To have nearly lost his life at the hands of his father and his sister was leveling and sad. To still be here despite their attempts was absolutely ludicrous. 

He looked away from the window, and thought that the endless night would be approaching quite soon. King’s Landing needed to prepare, and Daenerys should send word to the seven just what she planned on doing about it, as well as announce her reign, if she hadn’t already.

He poured more wine.

Had she? They didn’t discuss business. Not with any purpose, at any rate. 

More slid down his throat, and he suddenly felt quite sleepy. How irritating, that he should be tired after sleeping for two days straight! 

But he knew that he would need to be fresh in the morning, so he prepared himself and went to bed.

 

He was entering the Small Counsel room when he heard voices, and he thought about who would be among her intimate group, as they had not discussed it explicitly.

There was Varys, Missandei, Papas, and Lady Olena Tyrell. 

“Apologies, I hadn’t realized that you had already convened,” and he took the seat of the Hand at the far end of the table.  
“We had not yet begun, Lord Tyrion,” Daenerys replied. “We were only discussing the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Ceremony?” he whispered.

“The crowning ceremony,” replied Olena. She quickly added, “It’ll be strange to hear you whispering constantly while you mend yourself.”

“I never screamed,” he replied.

“No. Maybe that was just my imagination.”

He smiled at her and poured some wine. “In my imagination, I’m taller.”

Lady Olena laughed.

“Thank you, Tyrion,” continued Daenerys with a rueful smile. “But we ought to discuss what to do about Jamie.”

He sipped, then upon Jamie’s mention, finished the whole of it. He winced slightly as his eyes went round the table. “I do not think that I am qualified to comment on this subject,” he breathed. 

“He should be executed,” observed Olena.

Daenarys closed her eyes. “I was favoring exile to Casterly Rock. Much the way I had envisioned Cersei’s fate, so should Jamie’s be.”

“He’s a Lannister,” said Olena.

“So is my Hand. I do not rule with prejudice. I rule,” she leaned forward. “With fairness. Was he a King slayer? A Queen slayer? Yes. But he saved his brother on multiple occasions, and he led armies for good.”

“He fathered bastard children with his twin sister. How can he be allowed to live?” Olena pounded her fist on the table.

Daenerys’ eyes fell, and she sat back. “We cannot control who we love.”

“So incest will be accepted and encouraged in Westeros?”

“I think,” Tyrion began. “That exile is fine enough. There is such a thing as mercy, even for incest. Say what you will about Jamie Lannister, he was loyal and a true soldier,” this speech was a bit much for him, and he poured more wine.

“Well, of course you’ll defend your brother,” Olena dismissed. “What do you have to say, Varys?”

Varys had been paying very close attention to these goings on. “I never had an issue with Jamie Lannister. Tywin’s sons are fine men.”

“Cersei was the only true Lannister son,” said Tyrion.

“Well, what should we do? It seems that Lady Olena may be the only dissenting voice here concerning the Queen slayer,” Daenerys looked around the table.

“Give him the opportunity to swear you his sword and then send him away,” whispered Tyrion.

Daenerys looked steadily at him, then she nodded. “Very well. I’ll visit with him following tomorrow’s ceremony.”

“Who is coming, you grace?” asked Varys.

“As I understand, not many. Perhaps only Jon Snow, recently named King of the North.. Many of the other houses are busy preparing for the winter, and I understand that he wishes to speak to me about a very particular thing.”

“What do you plan on doing about a monarch holding the north?” asked Olena.

“We will discuss that together in the coming days,” and Daenerys nodded, indicating that she would not discuss it further.

They were in small council for about two hours, and the day already appeared to be drawing to a close, even though they met fairly early that morning. 

Winter was unforgiving and dark.

Tyrion watched as one by one the members of the small council left, with only he and the Queen remaining in the room.

Daenerys stood, and got herself some wine. “I was thinking about having Dorne represented here. What are your thoughts?” and she sat next to him.

“If you like,” and he drank.

“I was asking you.”

He looked at her a moment and then looked away. “I honestly know very little of the place. Prince Oberyn was a good and decent fellow until the Mountain squeezed his head and ruptured his brain.”

“How was he good and decent?”

“He fought my battle for me, volunteering when no one else could,” he paused and sipped. “Or would.”

She looked to her lap. “Tell me why you killed your father.”

Tyrion sighed, and drank more, poured more, then looked at Daenerys sadly.

“You promised,” she reminded him with a ghost of a grin.

“Did I?” he drank.

“Yes,” and she put her elbows on the table. 

He looked at her, looked away…”Why I killed Tywin Lannister…by his disappointing son, Tyrion,” he began. 

Daenerys swallowed, and poured more wine for herself.

“It is funny,” he began softly. “How much one sees of oneself through the eyes of one’s parents. I killed my mother in childbirth, my first sin. My second was being a dwarf, which my father reminded me almost daily of,” he sipped and felt the alcohol caresses his neck muscles. “As if I could ever forget. And so,” he continued, looked at the Queen, looked away again. “I lived as a disappointing son. I did my very best to learn what I could. To own my hideousness, so that it would not bother me when others mocked me for it. I was never afraid, of anything, save my father’s wrath,” he sipped. “Despite my many attempts to please him, my only parent, he and my sister were determined to loathe me. Jamie was kind and spent time with me, probably initially as charity, but I think he grew to care,” he looked at her. “He has a heart.”

She nodded, and emptied her glass down her throat.

“Now, because I was disappointing to everyone and I killed my mother, I drank. But, and you may not know this,” he looked at Daenerys, who was held rapt. “Dwarves need love and affection, too,” he whispered, leaning in close as if telling her a very great secret. 

She smiled, and…he believed he detected a slight blush. 

Considering this for only a moment, he sat back with his wine. “Yes. We need love and affection. So, I took to paying women to…lay with.”She nodded, and sipped.

“I did this very often. Too often, I imagine. And it was bound to happen that I would grow to care for one of these whores…since no one would think to offer me affection unless being paid for it. And when one in particular seems to be especially attentive, or bright, naturally the person receiving the attention begins to feel the stirrings of love.”

“You fell in love with a whore?” she asked, sipping again.

“I did,” he looked at her. “And I protected her from Cersei and my father here in the Red Keep. No one knew, save Varys, who she was or how I cared for her,” he sipped. “You can judge me if you like, but my love was honest.”

“I’m not judging you,” she said.

He nodded, and winced a touch. “Now, I wanted her leave…” he poured more wine.

“But you loved her,” Daenerys’ brow furrowed. “Why would you send her away?”

“Because I loved her,” he replied simply. “I understand that you have been sent away by people who are supposed to care for you, but in this case, it really was the safest thing.”

“If she loved you, she would have wanted to stay with you.”

“I understand that, but it was not safe for her. And sure enough, she was discovered,” he drank very deeply now. “And she testified against me at my trial for murdering Joffrey.”

“She…?”

“Yes,” Tyrion sat up again, and Daenerys now poured him wine. “She betrayed me. This, I probably could have overlooked, had she not been so heartless when doing so. But she was,” he paused. “I made a confession to the people at my trial…for having the unforgivable trait of being a dwarf, and I mocked them all,” he drank, emptying his glass once more, and now losing some of his sensibilities. “I was thrown into a cell in the dungeons here, and Jamie and Oberyn were my only visitors,” he sat back once more. “Eventually, I was set free by my brother, but I made the mistake of sneaking to the Hand’s chambers to confront my father. I do not know what possessed me that night to go there,” he added wistfully. “But I did. And do you know what I saw?”

She shook her head, and then drank more wine.

“My lover, the whore. In bed, waiting for my father to come to her.”

Daenerys swallowed. “He…”

“He did, yes. He took the only person save Jamie who ever loved me. Or, perhaps, the only person I ever loved save Jamie.”

“Tyrion…” she whispered.

His gaze fell. “I killed her.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “I killed her, for she lost her senses and attempted to kill me. And then, then…” he took a deep breath, felt pain in his neck, and poured more wine. “I found him, on the shitter, and I shot him with a crossbow, only after he said that I was no son of his.”

Daenerys sat back in her chair. “She was hurt, Tyrion. That was why she did it.”

“Oh, you can make excuses all you like. The fact remains that my love was not enough… nor will it ever be enough, for whomever thinks that they can love me will need to come to terms with the fact that this face,” he pointed to it. “Is the face they will need to see every day that they continue to love me.”

“Your face is not ugly.”“Do not attempt to placate me.”

“I’m not,” her chin went up. “It is a sad story, yes, and one I did not expect to hear. But it proves that you are worthy of love. That people are capable of loving you very deeply,” she paused. “We all have stories, some more sad than others. But you needn't resign yourself to a loveless life because of this one thing.”

“This one thing,” and he leaned in a bit. “This one thing involves my own father fucking my lover and having her turn on me. This one thing sees my lover attempt to kill me, and I kill her instead, then I kill my father. This one thing, Daenerys, is the biggest reason why I still drink, and why I will continue to do so.”

She shrugged, and her head fell a touch. “I suppose that is fair.”

He nodded. “You are being crowned tomorrow.”

“So it would seem.”

He smiled at her. “I’m very happy for you. Now comes the hard part,” and he stood.

She sighed, then stood.

“Thank you for telling me your story,” and she nodded, and left.

He drank the rest of the wine. “That, Daenerys Stormborn, is only the half of it.”


	8. Chapter 8

The morning dawned grey, and Tyrion Lannister was up early preparing for the ceremony in the Throne Room.

He was looking forward to this, mostly because it would give him reason to get out of his chambers for longer than a couple of hours. But also because he was excited about his vindication. 

There would be some there who were once his enemies, and he would be able to enjoy a marginal victory at being the Hand of the new Queen.

He was also interested in hearing what Jon Snow, now King of the North, had to say. He was not privy to all of those goings on, and was fairly certain that whatever he had to report was dire. 

“Thank you,” he told his maid, as he straightened the high necked collar and smoothed out his overcoat. 

“You’re welcome, my Lord,” she beamed. “You look very handsome.”

He rolled his eyes. “Now, lets not get carried away.”

“No! ’Tis true…I had heard about your striking appearance when you’re readied for court.”

He turned toward her. “Ordinarily, I would take that as a proposition, and ask you to join me here following the ceremony,” he paused. “But, seeing as how there is much in terms of responsibilities I have afterwards, and how you are most obviously lying, I must decline your advances,” he smiled, then took a sip of wine. 

She huffed a bit, then turned and left him.

Everything he said was true, save the bit about “ordinarily.” There was nothing ordinary about his rebuff. In fact, he was very much behaving extraordinarily. The fact that nothing really interested him in the bedroom save sleep, at present, was remarkable. 

And he had no idea how long this would go on.

…nor did he care.

He turned and left the room. 

 

There was a great deal of people in the Throne Room when he arrived. He looked around, and spotted Varys, who, like the spider he was, was stationed along the periphery of the room. He went to the eunuch, and stood beside him. 

“I do not think that I have any particular place to stand,” he said. “So, I suppose you’ll do as company.”

Varys smiled. “It’s an impressive turnout, considering.”

“Considering what? People are curious. Did you think no one would come?”

“No…but the weather has taken a turn, and people are worried.”

Tyrion looked about the room. “They will want to know what the new Queen’s plans are, so they are hear to listen to her and beg for their own causes.”

“Your voice,” he looked at him. “Is recovering nicely.”“Disappointed?”

“Not at all. It’s a relief that we will be blessed with your wit and pithy observations.”

“You should read more, Varys. I believe that you used that very same phrase just a few weeks ago to me,” he bounced on his heels.

Varys shook his head. “There,” he nudged him, directing his attention to the back of the room. 

And sure enough, silence fell, and Daenerys Targaryen began to walk down the center aisle. 

Tyrion watched her very closely, admiring her beauty without the prying eyes of their usual company. 

Maester Papas took the smallish crown from its pillow. 

“I now proclaim you Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” And he placed the crown on her head, and stepped away. 

Daenerys nodded, then sat. 

She glanced over the company, and then spoke. “We are approaching winter. I promise that though the future remains unknown, we will face this darkness together, for the unknown is never frightening while you have support. And together, we will emerge from the ice stronger, wiser, and more unified than we ever have.”

The company cheered, and there were smiles to be seen…

Tyrion watched as the applause grew louder, and then spotted Jon Snow, looking as solemn as ever…

…and standing next to him was Sansa.

He could not believe it, and quickly looked away. 

Sansa…here…

He had no idea that she had survived the escape from King’s Landing. 

He never thought to inquire after her, for he had nearly forgotten about her, and when he did consider her, he believed her to be dead.

Sweet, innocent Sansa Stark…

He looked at her once more, and noted the wisdom in her features. Life had not been kind to her.

And he felt badly, and somewhat responsible. He was, after all, her husband for a short while.

(And he winced at his internal dialogue using the word he never uttered aloud)

Had their marriage been annulled? He supposed it must have been, since it had never been consummated.

He shook his head and realized that the Hall was emptying into the corridor.

“Are you all right?” Varys asked.

Tyrion nodded, then followed the throng. 

He supposed that he would be speaking with Sansa that night, and wondered what in the name of the gods he would say to her.

It took some time for Daenerys to speak with everyone who wanted to speak with her. And Jon Snow and Sansa waited very patiently while she met with the many houses who had come to see her crowned. 

Sansa had spotted Tyrion a while beforehand, but did not approach him, opting to stay close to her brother. She did smile, indicating that she was not angry with him.

At least, that was how he took it.

He drank deeply and kept to himself mostly.

Daenerys did not summon him, but did nod to him a couple of times…

Finally, after a few hours, there was only Jon, Sansa, Daenerys, and Tyrion remaining. Missandei had excused herself.

“Well, here we are, Lord Snow,” Daenerys said, and offered him a seat. They had adjourned to the Small Council room, as it afforded the most privacy. “Would you care for some wine?”

“No, thank you,” he replied roughly. “Your Majesty, my sister and I come with urgent news.”

“Your sister…?” Daenerys looked at Sansa.

“Yes, your grace,” Sansa replied. “Jon is my half brother. He was recently named King of the North, much the way Your Majesty just was named Queen of the Realm.”

Daenerys nodded. “What is this urgent news?”

Jon sat and looked to the others to sit as well. “White Walkers are on the verge of breeching the Wall. I think it will be a matter of a few weeks before the Night King is able to overcome the defenses there. Once that happens, all of your Kingdom will be in danger of dying and joining the Night’s Armies.”

Daenerys gaped at him, and then her mouth clicked shut. “Lord Tyrion, please pour some wine for all of us.”

Tyrion did so happily, and then turned to Jon. “When you say ‘join the Night’s Armies’…”

“Once you die north of the Wall, you are in danger of becoming a living corpse. I saw it with my own eyes. When the winter comes here, we will all be in danger.”

“And you say,” said Daenerys after a sip. “That we have a few weeks?”

“At most,” replied Jon.

She sat back. “What are the forces around Winterfell like? I understand that you very recently won a terrible battle to reclaim your home.”

Sansa sat up. “They are depleted, your grace. But we have the backing of every House in the North. They have all sworn allegiance to Jon.”

“So you have the loyalty of the Northern Houses,” observed Tyrion. “But what good will it do you if you’re all walking corpses?” They looked blankly at him. “In other words, do we have a way to defeat the Night King that does not involve soldiers?”

“Dragon glass. And fire,” Jon said.

“Fire,” said Daenerys.

“That, we have plenty of,” observed Tyrion with a smile at the Queen.

“Valyrian steel will cut them down,” said Jon. “I did that myself.”

“You’ve fought these Walkers?” Daenerys seemed to be impressed.

“I have.”

“And won?”

Jon nodded, then after having ignored his wine the entire conversation, downed it in a gulp. “As much as anyone has won against the monsters,” he looked at Tyrion. “You were always a smart one. I remember, when you went to the Wall, thinking that you understood things that others didn’t. I’m here not only to meet the Queen and tell her about these things, but to see what you can come up with in terms of a plan to defeat these armies,” he paused. “And to thank you, for being kind to Sansa,” he smiled at his sister.

“I wouldn't count on me, Jon, to defeat the Night’s Armies.”

“He is more than capable,” interrupted Daenerys. “…of coming up with something in the coming days. We will work together to devise a plan of action. You say we have a few weeks at most. Tyrion?”

He nodded. 

“We will have something for the Lord and Lady of WInterfell by week’s end. And if I need to bring my dragons, so be it,” and she drank. “Can you stay the week?” she asked Jon.

He looked to Sansa. “I don’t think so. We will need to get back much sooner…the North is in disarray.”

Daenerys nodded. “It is to your credit that you recognize this,” she smiled, then looked at Sansa. “What kindness did my Hand offer you?”

Sansa cleared her throat, and looked at Tyrion.

He shook his head, realizing just then that he had never intimated to Daenerys that he had been married…”It was nothing,” and he drank.

“He is too modest,” Daenerys laughed. “What did he do, Lady Stark?”

Sansa blushed. “Every time someone calls me that, I think of my mother,” she smiled. And then she looked at the Queen. “When no one else here in King’s Landing would show me kindness, or even a smile, Tyrion showed me both.”

“You were here?”

Sansa nodded. “I was betrothed to Joffrey, and like an idiot girl, was thrilled that I’d be Queen. He was a terror…” she paused. “And then he decided that he wanted Margery Tyrell, and Tywin decided that…”

“…that it was a very fine match, and so you were spared my nephew and his sadistic ways,” Tyrion interrupted. He did not know if Daenerys would be upset at him keeping this tidbit from her, but he did not care to risk it.

“Well, yes. But then they told me that Tyrion would be my husband.”

“And what happened?” asked Daenerys.

“We were married, of course,” replied Sansa. “But he was always kind, and always respectful,” she turned to Tyrion. “You were one of the only truly kind people I have met on my travels of Westeros. You’ve no idea what things have happened to me,” she sipped more wine. “But that time when we were together gave me hope that there was some good in the world.”

Tyrion smiled. “I’m very sorry that you were maltreated. If I could have protected you, I surely would have.”

“You were married?” Daenrys’ voice sounded very far away.

Tyrion looked at her. “Well, yes, but…”

“But it was for a very short duration, and never consummated,” Sansa supplied. “In fact, I was married off again to Ramsay Bolton because they said that our marriage was invalid.”

“You poor dear,” said Tyrion.

“You’ve no idea.”

Daenerys stood. “Very well. Lord Snow, we will have a plan sent forward as soon as it is in place. You are, of course, welcome to stay for as long as you like, but as you indicated, the North needs its leader,” she nodded to Jon and Sansa. “So, I assume I’ll be seeing you both off in the morning?”

“Yes,” Jon stood. “Yes, we should be returning,” he looked at Sansa. 

She nodded and stood. “Thank you, your grace, Lord Tyrion, for listening to us,” and with that, they left.

There was a chill which fell on the room, and nary a sound could be heard. Tyrion had seldom heard his own heart beating, but this was one of those times. “Well, I suppose…”

“You were married to Sansa Stark?”

“I was,” and he stood. “But it was arranged, and was never…”

“Consummated. I heard that.”

“Precisely.”“Curious how you neglected to mention that.”

“Is it? I would say that it is indicative of it meaning very little to me.”

“A marriage means very little to you?” Daenerys was irate.

“When it is loveless, yes. It is hardly more than a business arrangement.”

“You shared quarters, though,” and she drank her wine deeply, and poured some more.

“I slept on the chair.”

“How long was this loveless marriage?”  
“Ah…” he thought a moment. “Perhaps a month? Maybe a bit more.”

“You slept on a chair for over a month?”

“Why is this so difficult to understand? What’s more, why is it your concern? Sansa and I never loved one another. I respected her heart. As she said, I showed her kindness…”

And Daenerys walked around the table to him. “If you are able to hide a marriage, what other things are you hiding?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, are you a spy?”

Tyrion laughed. “Me? You think me a spy? For who?”

“The Spider was a spy for years, and you trust him. Why, I have no idea,” she ended in a whisper.

“We had this conversation some time ago, Daenerys. If you don’t trust me, why did you name me your Hand?”

“I may have acted prematurely.”

“Why are you angry?” he demanded. “You are behaving like a jilted lover. There is nothing but a professional agreement between us…” his voice was hurting his neck, and he swallowed.

“Nothing but a…” she repeated. “Do you not consider me a friend?”

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. “Of course I do. But this…this is irrational, and you are a very rational person. What has come over you?”

“I…” she began, but something stuck in her throat. Daenerys swallowed, and her gaze fell. “It must be the excitement of the day…meeting all of those people,” she smiled, and looked at him. “I am very tired, Tyrion, and we have much to do tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning,” and she turned, leaving him there.

And Tyrion was shocked, but thought that she must be right. She was overtired and unnecessarily emotional.

 

…and Daenerys Targaryen went to her rooms, had her maid light her hearth…

And she considered everything that had just transpired, and was shocked by her discoveries.


	9. Chapter 9

“Tyrion,” she whispered. Drogon had just taken flight after killing that mammoth of a man, and she fell to her knees…

He was bleeding, she could tell, and someone had wrapped his neck with cloth.

He was not responding to her, and she stood. “Varys, Missandei, please explain to them our intentions here. Tell them that I will be keeping my communications open, and that they can visit me at any time,” she paused. “I need to get Lord Tyrion inside.”

The pair nodded, and turned toward the throng of soldiers, beginning their speech.

Dany saw someone lurking in the doorway, partially obscured by shadow…”You there. Help me with him.”

And the man did, he picked Tyrion up and brought him inside. Dany looked about…”Have you any idea where a Maester might be?” she asked the solider.

The soldier, who was looking at her crookedly. “I had been looking for one myself for him.”

And now she looked at him fully. “What is your name?”

“Jamie Lannister.”

Her face fell. “Wait here.”

Jamie Lannister…it made sense. He would be around here somewhere…”Grey Worm, do you know where a Maester might be?”

The soldier shook his head warily.

“You appear to be cold,” Dany observed.

“I am, Khaleesi…but will be fine,” he nodded.

“Excuse me, your grace, but you were inquiring about a Maester?”

“I was.”

“I am Qyburn, and can help you,” he bowed.

Dany looked at him crookedly, but led him inside to where Jamie still held Tyrion. “Here…he is unconscious and bleeding. He is my Hand, so I want him to receive only your very best care.”

Jamie followed them with his brother, and deposited him in a room not far from where they stood. Qyburn began ordering his man about, telling him to fetch various salts and remedies for Tyrion’s wound.

Dany and Jamie left the room, and she looked at him with some disdain. “So, King Slayer. We meet at last.”

“Queen Slayer, too, your grace,” he corrected. 

She arched a brow. “Indeed? You murdered Cersei?”

“I did. I can show you…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Dany replied. “Come with me.” He followed her to the Throne Room, the only place she absolutely knew hoe to get to in the palace. 

She looked down, and saw Tyrion’s blood on her hands, and felt heady. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him…

The fire was warm and comforting. It crackled and it spat out embers in her room.

She had been sitting there for some time, thinking about her reaction to Tyrion’s injury.

Her reaction to his story about killing his father.

Her reaction to learning of his marriage to Sansa Stark…

And indeed, every interaction she could think of since they met. 

No one could make her laugh the way he did. No one made her feel at ease the way he did. He had, rather steadily, become her most trusted confidant and friend.

But, she thought, perhaps more than that. Why had she dismissed Daario with such ease? Tyrion had made the suggestion, and she hardly gave it a thought. 

Dany sat back in her chair. This was not something that she saw coming, and it gave her pause. She had made Tyrion Lannister her Hand, since she trusted him implicitly and believed in him. 

But the jealousy…yes…the jealousy…she felt at his marriage to Sansa Stark was acute. Perhaps she only wanted to command all of his attention…

But why. Why would that matter? Why would it matter if he had been married and not mentioned it? He was under no obligation to confess every single thing he had ever done to her…

Dany stood. 

She had made the promise to see someone that day, and the excitement of it all made her distracted. 

And it was fortuitous that that person knew Tyrion better than anyone alive. 

She grabbed a wrap from her bed and left her room silently. Though it was barely eventide, it looked and felt like the middle of the night.

She had arrived in Westeros at likely its most unattractive hour.

Now well versed in the Red Keep’s corridors, Dany walked the halls until she came upon Jamie Lannister’s room, with its guards men standing watch. 

She nodded to them, and they allowed her to knock.

“Come in,” she heard him call casually. 

Dany opened the door to find him sitting at his table, eating soup. He stood when she entered, and he bowed.

“Good evening, Lord Jamie.”

“Am I a Lord?” he sat back down. “I never felt like one.”

“Well, how would you like to be addressed?” and she sat as well, right across from him.

“Jamie is fine,” he sipped his wine. 

Dany nodded. “You may call me ‘Your Grace’,” she smiled.

He returned her smile. “Everything I’ve heard about you is true. Beautiful. Commanding. Wise. Though, I must say, keeping a most prized prisoner locked in his rooms for a week may not be your shining moment.”

“Where would you have me place you, then?”

“I would have executed me,” he sipped some more. “I killed your father after I swore to protect him. I killed my sister after I swore to love her,” he picked up his goblet and drank deeply, and afterwards, he poured some more. “I am not to be trusted.”

“You want me to sever your head?” she smirked.

“Well, perhaps ‘want’ is a bit much. Though I am rather depressed about the whole of it. Imagine, engaged in a torrid incestuous affair your entire life with your sibling, only to discover that she is as mad as you always suspected, but never admitted. You have children with her. Lie about all of it to everyone,” he paused. “I am pretty much a villain, Your Grace,” he added with feeling. 

“You speak so casually about all of it, as though none of it mattered,” Dany poured herself some wine.

“It doesn’t. Not anymore.”

“No?” she sipped.

“Nothing matters. That is what I’ve learned. Nothing matters, and yet here we are.”

“Yet here we are,” she smiled, then looked down. “Your brother cares for you very much.”

“Tyrion has always had my devotion.”

“You care for siblings to the point of distraction,” she drank her wine, then sat the glass down.

Jamie laughed at that. “Well, I killed Cersei for many reasons, but the one reason, the immediate reason, was that she had, in my mind, just killed our brother. Killed him,” he continued. “Just when I had convinced myself to allow him to live.”

“You were going to execute him?” she stated, demandingly.

“Of course I was. He killed our father.”

“Yes,” Dany nodded. “He told me all about it.”

“Did he?”

“He said that your father was horrible to him his entire life.”

“That he was,” and Jamie poured himself more wine.

Dany smiled, and folded her hands on her lap. “Was everyone always terrible to him?”

“Mostly. Though he has always had a way of looking at things. I was fascinated by him,” he sat back. “For everything he suffered, he always seemed to have the upper hand. Except, perhaps, where Tywin was concerned,” and he sipped again.

“He is a fascinating person.”

And Jamie looked at her. “You named him your Hand.”“I did.”

“A wise choice.”“I’m glad you approve,” she smirked.

“He is lucky to have found you,” he returned her smirk.

“Or, I am lucky to have found him. Or, alternatively, we are both lucky to have the admiration of Varys.”

Jamie laughed. “You care for my brother,” his gaze fell, and he played with his cup.

Dany looked away. “Your hearth needs lighting.”

“I’m not cold.”

She sighed. “I do care for him, yes. I am…confused about it all.”

“Why? Because he is a dwarf?”

Her eyes snapped to his. “No. And I am insulted that you’d suggest…”

“Why wouldn't I? What other reason could there be that you’d be confused?” Jamie leaned forward. “Pardon me, Your Grace, but really. Tyrion is as smart as they come. Amusing to a fault. He is sweet, loyal, and kind. But also ruthless if he needs to be. His only fault is that he is a dwarf, and that is what I have been fighting with my family about since he was born.”

Dany swallowed. “Tyrion is all of those things. But it is not his appearance which gives me pause. I have entered Westeros free of lovers by choice. I may need to make alliances via marriage…”“You had a lover?”

“I did,” she raised her chin.

“And you left him in Meereen?”

“Yes.”

“And was this your own decision?”

“I always make my own decisions.”

He smiled. “Of course you do. What I mean to say is, was it your idea?”

Dany’s back slacked and she dropped her eyes. “It was not.”

“No. It was Tyrion’s.”

She looked at him and nodded.

“Your Grace, I believe that my brother may be in love with you,” and Jamie poured them both wine. “Now, you can choose to do nothing about this, as most in your position would. Or, you can dismiss him,” he sipped.

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because who wants a dwarf as a Hand running about pining after his Queen?”

“Tyrion does not ‘pine away’ for me,” and she drank the whole of her wine.

“Perhaps not,” he considered her. “Why are you here?”

“I promised to speak with you.”

“About my brother?”

“No. About what I am to do with you.”

“What did Tyrion recommend?”

“That you swear me your sword and retire to Casterly Rock.”

Jamie smiled. “Ah…I see. So. Since you have conflicting feelings for my brother, you are here to give him what he wants. Me, on house arrest, in Casterly Rock.”

Dany was astounded by this man. The Lannister’s surely produced interesting children. “What do you know of his marriage to Sansa Stark?”

He looked crookedly at her. “Not much.”

“Was it loveless?”

“I would think so. He was in love with that whore at the time.”

She swallowed and nodded. 

“Are you jealous?” he whispered.

“No. I’m curios,” she lied.

“Of course you are.”

Dany smiled. “I think that I’ll keep you here for a bit.”

“Will you,” he stated.

“Yes. In fact, I think that I would like for you to aid us in the north.”

“You forget that I am a dangerous person. I killed…”

“I know who you killed and why,” she dismissed. “And that sort of ruthlessness is valuable in battle. What’s more, I understand that you are a great military leader.”

Jamie said nothing.

“Yes. So, I’ll keep you here for the time being. We will put your house arrest under review in a month’s time,” she stood. “Good evening, Jamie.”

He stood awkwardly, and nodded. 

Dany turned, and as she did, heard him ask her…”Do you love him, Your Grace?”

She stopped. “I don’t know,” she replied softly, and she left.

She retuned to her rooms, and found her dinner still warm. She wished that there was a way for her to discover her feelings without the burden of rule…

For she felt as though anything she felt or did would impact many, many others. 

And this, she felt was understandable, yet exceedingly unfair. 

She knew that she cared for him…more than almost anyone…

She knew that she had loved Drogo, and that this felt nothing like that.

Dany sat and sipped her soup.

She needed to do so much as Queen right now! Get King’s Landing in order…help the Realm prepare for the winter which was already blowing its winds…fight an army of undead…

And all she could think about at present was a dwarf, her Hand, who had undeniably won her affection in a way that no one had heretofore.

She merely needed to discern how deep this affection was.


	10. Chapter 10

“You killed Cersei,” she said without feeling.

“I did,” and he slumped to the floor.

She wiped her palms on her pants, and swallowed. “And where is she?”

“The Queen’s quarters.”

Dany looked at one of the Unsullied who had followed her into the Throne Room. “Where is that room?”

Jamie told her.

“Go. Find the dead Queen and bring her here,” she nodded to the soldier.

She turned her attention to Jamie. “You killed my father.”

“So I did.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn't see your head on a spike.”

“I have none,” he still wasn't looking at her.

Dany’s brow arched. “Your brother is bleeding, half dead…”

And now Jamie looked at her. “Cersei stabbed him in the neck. She wanted him dead.”

“Why?”

“Because…” he swallowed. “Because she blamed him for everything bad that ever happened to her. Our mother, our son and daughter…our mother…she feared him.”

Dany’s chin went up, though she did not stop looking at him. “You will be my prisoner.”

He nodded.

Grey Worm entered the room. Dany looked at him. “Where are the Lord Commander’s quarters?”

“I do not know, Your Grace.”

“Find them and bring him there,” she approached Grey Worm. “Have two Unsullied soldiers there at his door day and night. No one is to enter except to bring his food. No one but those who bring him this food may leave. I will be by once the city is settled more,” and she nodded. “Good night, Ser Jamie,” and she left.

Dany walked with purpose to the Maester’s room. She was wringing her hands a bit. 

Part of her believed that she should have had Jamie Lannister executed then and there. He had killed her father…

…but then she thought about Tyrion, and how he would have wanted a say in what happened to his brother. 

“This way to the Maester’s quarters?” she asked a hand maid.

She nodded, and pointed to a door down the hall further.

The door was heavy, and she was tired. It had been a long night.

Inside, she saw many candles lit and two people hovering over Tyrion…Tyrion, who was laying prone on a table…

They were working diligently. 

“How is he?” she asked, approaching the table.

“Your Majesty,” the Maester bowed his head, looking at her, then looked at Tyrion. “He has lost much of his life blood…but the Queen did not hit an artery. He will live.”

She exhaled. “Is he in much pain?”

“I have given him milk of the poppy in plenty to keep him asleep.”

Dany nodded, then went to him, touching his hand. 

She went back to her rooms with the memory of her speaking to Jamie and then visiting Tyrion fresh in her thoughts.

She thought that there was likely no reason for her to see Tyrion now, given the fact that they had argued, and she felt like a fool. 

She had no idea what she would say to him, anyway.

Dany walked into her room, and discovered Missandei there. 

She bowed and smiled. “Good evening, Khaleesi.”

“Missandei,” Dany approached her. “What can I do for you?”

The pair sat down. “The people are looking for you for wood for their fires. The city needs to be cleaned up since the battle…much has been done, but more needs doing, since there is only a few hours of daylight.”

Dany nodded. “I can have some of the Second Sons work on these things tomorrow. We also need seamstresses…perhaps the Starks might know what to do about that,” and she sat back. “They leave in the morning.”

“Your rule is progressing,” Missandei smiled.

“Is it? I feel painfully impotent.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “I’m terribly confused.” Missandei went to pour Dany some wine, but the Khaleesi held her hand up. “No. No wine, thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she looked at her Queen with concern.

Dany looked into her fire still turing with heat…”I loved Khal Drogo, Missandei. I loved him, more than I ever loved anyone or anything. And then, when I carried his son, I was filled with even more love than ever knew to be possible,” she paused. “He died, and when he passed on, he was a shell of a man. And our son followed him where I could not go.”

“I am sorry for everything that you lost,” and the interpreter poured herself some wine. Anxious lines furrowed her features.

“You know about everything that I lost,” Dany smiled and looked at her. “But things are very different for me now. Drogo was strong…a mammoth of a man. He was strong enough for both he, I. and his son. When they left me, I assumed their strength…I loved them. So much,” her voice fell.

Missandei nodded. 

“I rather thought that I’d never love again. I had had it in my life, and was lucky for it. I had other things to conquer…to bring to this world,” she paused. “But still, I took a lover, and I cared for him. And I left him,” she looked at Missandei.

The cold was settling in the room, and Dany pulled her wrap closer. The fire burned on, and the candles burned low. 

“And here I am. I have everything I wanted. I am about to travel north to fight another battle…and when I win, I will return to King’s Landing, ready to see Westeros through the long winter.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Your Grace,” Missandei said, sipping her wine.

“Of course I am,” Dany replied. “But, you see, it is not enough.”

“Your Grace?” she said, in confusion.

“It’s not enough.”

“What more…?”

“Love,” she said simply. “I thought that I wouldn't require this thing. This thing that everyone chases. But I do. And friendship, companionship….”

“You have that in me,” Missandei smiled.

“Oh, I know that I do,” she touched her hand, and then sat back once more. 

“But it’s not enough.”

Dany looked to the fire, a vague look about her.

Missandei shifted in her seat. “You have someone specific in mind.”

Dany smiled. “In a way…yet my musings are much more general than specific,” she paused. “Though, they are specific, too.”

“Who?”

“I’d rather not say just yet. It would be better that I decide what to do and let this person know before I start telling everyone else about it.”

Missandei finished her wine. “But perhaps I could offer some advice, if I know this person.”

Dany looked at her. “It isn't Grey Worm.”

Missandei smiled and blushed. “Thank you.”

“It is rather foolish, if one thinks about it. All this secrecy…but this person…he is well known, and I rather think that it is best if during my sorting out of things I keep his identity hidden.”

She shrugged. “You know best.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

“Well, if you don’t know what’s best, who does?”

“That,” Dany smiled. “Is an excellent question.”

Missandei laughed, then she paused a moment. “Lord Tyrion knows very much about a lot of things. You could speak to him about it.”

“Should I?” Dany looked at her with a sparkle in her eye.

“Yes, I think so. The two of you are rather close. He’d be happy to help.”

“Perhaps I shall.”

Missandei nodded, then stood. “I’ll alert the others that the Second Sons are to be used in clean up efforts on the morrow,” and she bowed, and left. 

Dany sighed. 

How funny that she should suggest Tyrion as her counsel! But, also, fairly obvious. She asks Tyrion for so much, it makes sense that she’d speak to him about this. 

Except that in this particular case, it doesn’t.

At least not yet.

Dany decided to have a glass of wine, and poured it out. 

She rubbed her face.

There was much to what she was saying to Missandei about her love for Drogo. He was the exact opposite of Tyrion, save perhaps their passion. Both were rather passionate men, but about different things.

But maybe the gods merely recognized that Drogo was not what she needed any longer. Maybe it was the gods showing her that she needed someone with wit and humor…someone who would be faithful to her while she ruled, for she never saw Drogo taking orders from her. 

And maybe she needed someone who was a friend now, as well. Someone to help her navigate the seven.

But as a Hand, he would. 

This was doing no good at all. She wasn't thinking of Tyrion…she was thinking of herself. 

Would he, as a Lannister, be a liability? 

Probably.

Dany stood. She checked the sky…it was impossible to tell the time. 

She began walking down the hall, still wrapped up against the seeping chill…up a flight of stairs…

“Come in,” he said to her knock.

Dany took a deep breath and opened the door.

Tyrion was sitting by his hearth, drinking wine, and looking at papers. He appeared to be fully confused by her presence. “Your Grace,’ he began to stand.

“No no. Please. Don't get up,” and she sat across from him. “I came to apologize for my erratic behavior earlier,” and her eyes dropped.

“No need to apologize.”

“Well, I am sorry. It was foolish of me,” and she smiled at him. “I saw Jamie.”

“Did you? And how is my brother who wields his sword too readily?” he sat back with a smirk.

Dany laughed. “I would think that you’d be grateful for his liberal sword. It saved your life.”

“Of course I am. But neither your father nor Cersei could be grateful. He does have a penchant for murdering monarchs…ill begotten or otherwise,” he paused. “Perhaps you should cut off his head.”

She smiled at him. “I like him.”

“Well, then it’s settled. You should marry him and make him less miserable, and make the Lannister name more palatable to Westeros,” he paused. “Of course, we aren’t considering your happiness, are we?”

“No. We aren’t,” she nodded.

“Well, Jamie is an attractive enough fellow. Sometimes smart. Occasionally amusing. He could make you a proper husband with some training. The incest bit will be a distant memory before you know it.”

Dany suddenly became quite serious. “You honestly think that I should marry your brother?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “What good would marrying a Lannister be? That name is poison here,” and he drank deeply.

“You believe that I should only marry for politically strategic reasons?”

“You ask many questions Your Grace.”

“I have you to answer them, my Lord,” and she filled a glass for herself. “Best I get what I bargained for.”

“Hm. Yes,” and he downed it. “Now…do I think that you should marry advantageously…? My immediate answer is yes. You abandoned Daario for it.”

“I did indeed.”

“You claimed that you had your true love in the Khal, is that not so?”

“I may have mentioned that,” and she sipped.

“Well then. If you have given up on romance, that is, you’ve had your love and moved on, why not an advantageous marriage?”

“Perhaps I was precipitate.”

“Were you?”

“Well,” and she drank deeply. “There is a situation, one could imagine, wherein a person may enter my fancy and then where would that leave me?”

“You could always take a lover,” and he poured more and drank the whole of it.

“But I don't want a lover. That is why I left Daario in Meereen.”

“You are saying that you want a husband?” he seemed to be shocked.

“I’m saying that I foresee myself wanting another husband for love more than I want a lover for sex and a husband for political reasons.”

Tyrion cleared his throat. “And, in your limited time here in King’s Landing, have you found someone who meets your criteria?”

“For a husband?”

He nodded.

“Well…he would need to be very smart,” she skimmed the lip of her cup with her forefinger. “Amusing, since so much of my time is spent in serious deliberation. Kind, since I deal with rogues. Supportive, since it is a lonely position to be in…”

Tyrion was looking at her steadily. “And all this, coupled with a handsome face, would surely do the trick.”

Dany found his gaze. “I never said a handsome face.”

“You didn’t?”

She shook her head.

Tyrion seemed to snap himself out of some sort of trance. “Pardon me, Your Grace, but you seem to be speaking to me, though I am not following your train of thought. An odd position for me to be in.”

“I was merely extrapolating on the virtues my partner in life must have.”

He nodded. “A very fine list. It would be difficult to find such a person.” Dany stood. “It would be, yes,” and she turned. “Good night, Tyrion.”

And she left him there with his thoughts.


	11. Chapter 11

She was standing there, having just heard Sansa tell them all that she and Tyrion had been married…  
…and she felt faint.

Dany swallowed her emotion, and said, “You were married?”   
And all sorts of things went rushing through her mind. . .but the one thing that seemed to be constant was…They were in love, for Tyrion would not have agreed to marry if there was no depth of feeling.   
And Dany was overwrought…she needed to compose herself…but she felt as though she was falling…  
So, she stood.   
She needed to speak to him alone…she needed to feel in control of the situation…

And once she left following her interrogation of him, she felt humiliated and exhausted…as though she had run very fast, and on the verge of tears…

 

Getting back to her rooms that night was an odd experience. She was embarrassed, for she felt as though she had been unnecessarily flirtatious with Tyrion.   
She couldn’t help herself.

She hadn’t thought about it at all, but looking back, she had been rather coy with him for the entirety of their relationship. 

She laid down, covering herself with the overlays which blanketed the bed, and she closed her eyes…

The corridor seemed to be endless, and she felt lost and alone. How much longer must she walk before she reached the end of it? The Red Keep was irritating in this way.

For her entire life she had been told about the beauty of King’s Landing, but Dany did not find it terribly beautiful. It was cold, grey, and dank…moisture seemed to seep in through the cracks in between the stones.

She heard people talking up ahead, and she suddenly felt as though this was what, or who, she was looking for…her pace increased.

And she heard mutterings behind the door to her right, so she went to it, and placed her palms on the door, and leaned in to listen…

She heard no words, but there were sounds of pleasure issuing from the inside…

And she was suddenly afraid to open the door. 

But she also knew that she had to, that beyond that door was what she was looking for…she placed her hand on the knob, and nearly burned herself. This was curious, as she was Targaryen, and seldom was burned. 

And so she swallowed, and she turned the knob…

She opened the door, and saw…  
Sansa Stark atop Tyrion on a bed, and they were writhing about in a lustful embrace…

Dany wasn't immediately spotted by either one, but she did not turn away. She stood there, watching, and as she did, she realized that cold tears were streaming down her face…

…and Tyrion looked at her then, and he went to push Sansa off …

But Dany turned, and she ran from the room, ice forming in the halls as she ran, and her tears froze to her face…

She awoke in a panic, and sat up.

She touched her face with her fingers, still feeling the cold trails of ice from her dream tears.

Dany turned and her feet hit the floor. It was quite cold.

She decided to light a fire, not knowing the time of day.

She set about it, her hands shaking violently. Once the fire was lit, she retrieved some water from her basin she used to wash her face, and took a cup, drinking it. She was very thirsty from her being emotionally overwrought.

Dany slumped in her chair by the hearth…the one she had passed so much of the day previous in. 

She knew what that dream meant.

She then realized that she had known for some time without acknowledging it to herself.

She was in love with Tyrion Lannister.

 

“My Hand, I’m certain, will have a plan soon enough, Lord Snow,” Dany was smiling widely as she stood in the courtyard that morning, seeing the Starks and their small troop of guardsmen back to Winterfell. They meant to hurry back to the North, and cut their travel time in half. It would mean tired horses, but with the threat of the Night’s Armies at hand, there could not be a moment to lose.

“I hope so, Your Grace. You will need to be on your way in a few days’ time,” Jon nodded. 

Dany nodded. “I can promise you dragon fire. And with me on Drogon’s back, we might meet you at Winterfell,” she smiled. She then looked at Sansa… What a lovely young woman she was! And she looked at her brother with such affection. “Thank you for your commitment to your house, Lady Sansa. And for making this arduous trip to King’s Landing, especially considering your history here,” she paused. “And thank you for your counsel on the clothing. It will make things much warmer for us all here.”

Sansa nodded. “I hope to see you quite soon,” and she mounted her horse. 

Dany returned the nod, then turned and went back into the Red Keep.

She made her way quickly to the Small Council room, equal parts anxious and nervous to meet Tyrion.

She wondered if she would be able to confess herself to him that morning. She could simply say it, but then, she thought that he may not appreciate such bluntness in such dubious times.

But it couldn’t remain unsaid for too long…

After all, Jaime had said that he suspected that Tyrion was in love with her. What had she to be anxious about?

She walked into the room to find it empty. She was instantly irritated, as she had specifically asked the Council to be ready to meet about the North first thing.

She went and sat at the head of the table, and waited for her Council to arrive…

Varys was the first to come in. “Good morning, Your Grace,” and he sat.

One by one, they arrived, Tyrion last to come. “Apologies for my dilatory arrival. I was drawing up plans for the North,” and he placed a largish map of Westeros on the table. “Her Majesty will need to bring her dragons as the first wave of enforcements. Fortunately,” and he unraveled a piece of parchment he retrieved from his pocket, “We have news from a Samwell Tarly at the Citadel. He writes,   
As the Night’s King draws nearer, I have discovered that dragon fire will largely eliminate the armies of whites. The Wights, however, can be killed with obsidian and from Valyrian steel,” he paused. “This is not remarkable, excepting the bit about the dragon fire not having much of an effect on the captains of the armies,” he continued:  
“I am leaving posthaste for Winterfell, as I have an urgent message for Jon Snow. I hope to find the armies of King’s Landing descending on the North.”

Tyrion looked up smiling. “I think that this is, in all, good news. While Varyrian steel is not something we have stores of, obsidian was found to be in the catacombs here. Her Majesty can ride a bit ahead with the dragons, provided that they can survive well in the cold,” he looked at Dany for assurance.

“I cannot answer that, as it’s never been tested.”

“Well, let’s hope that the fire in their bellies translate into warmth for their scales…now. She will ride ahead, by only a day or so, and while she does so, we will craft some of the old obsidian into weapons. Shouldn't take too long, really. We can alert the Iron Born to meet us all at Riverrun, which still has Lannister armies there. Jaime can command those, as they are likely awaiting his arrival, anyway. When Her Grace arrives, hopefully with another dragon rider so that she may not be completely alone, the North can prepare to mount an offensive. The rest of the armies will arrive not far behind, and can attack the Wights, the real dangers, with a massive force.”

Dany nodded. “Does anyone have any objection to this? I can send a raven today. The whole of Westeros against the Night’s King,” she smiled. “It seems a simple enough plan.”

“And,” began Olena. “Once this war is done, we will all retire to our own houses for the winter, I trust?”

“Yes of course, Lady Olena. I know that you are anxious to get to your people.”

“Then let’s get on with it. What sort of timeline do you have in mind, Tyrion?”

He sat back. “I’d like to get started on the weaponry today, if possible,” he looked at Dany.

“Only the Unsullied have been charged with any task today.”

“Then today we begin. Perhaps in a few days Her Grace can begin her journey North to burn the whites.”

Varys now spoke, “Who will ride with her? Who else can ride a dragon? We cannot have her make the journey alone. It’s too dangerous.”

Missandei then said, “Lord Tyrion has experience with Rhaegal and Viserion.”

Dany’s eyes lit up. “Have you, Tyrion? I did not know that you ever handled them.”

“Well, I…” he cleared his throat. “Where is the wine? When I was Hand with Joffrey there was constantly wine in this room.”

Dany smiled and got up. She fetched a carafe from the desk just behind her, and poured out a few glasses. “I would not get accustomed to this from me, any of you. I am merely toasting the plan Tyrion has devised,” and she handed out glasses.

“I’m glad someone thinks of these things,” Tyrion observed, taking the glass and sipping. “Now, Missandei speaks the truth. I did, when you were gone from Meereen, set your dragons loose to hunt and stretch out their…wings.”

“And they allowed you to get close enough?” Dany sipped, a bit shocked.

“Well, of course they did. I was very calm. Told them a story or something,” and he finished the wine, and poured some more.

Dany did not take her eyes from him. “They never allow anyone close enough to touch them,” she paused. “Except me.”

“Well. I’m just that nice, I suppose. Pity Tywin isn't here to bear witness to this. He surely would have some objection to this character trait.”

“It isn't a matter of being nice,” and Dany smiled. “Apparently, you are meant to befriend them,” and in her mind, that was all she required to solidify her love for him.

“Then he can go with you, Your Grace,” said Missandei. “It makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

Dany looked around. “Has anyone any objection to this proposal?”

No one said anything, but Tyrion appeared to be troubled by something, though he said not a word.

“Then it’s settled,” she stated. “What else have we to discuss? The clean up of King’s Landing?” 

Such went the meeting for a few hours hence. Tyrion was mostly quiet, but he did add some things here and there. Mostly, he sipped his wine and looked out of the window.

The meeting ended, and everyone stood. “Thank you, everyone, for meeting. It was long and complicated…but I think we have accomplished some things this day,” the company nodded, and began to exit. “Lord Tyrion, might I speak with you for a moment?” and she turned away right after he bowed his assent to her request. 

She breathed deeply and lit a fire. 

“You have servants who can see to that, Your Grace,” she heard him say. 

“And what sort of woman would I be if I could not light my own hearth?” she asked, turning toward him once more. 

“A woman who is the Queen,” Tyrion replied.

“And as Queen, I wish to see to some things myself,” she sat once more at the table. “Sit, please.”

He did.

“What happened when you set Rhaegal and Viserion free?”

“They…well,” he paused. “They flew away, obviously.”

“They did not try to harm you?”

“No. Though they did growl a bit. I suppose I was frightened for a moment,” and he poured more wine for himself.

“Just a moment?” she smiled.

He looked at her. “Perhaps a bit more, then,” and he sipped. 

“Tyrion, I want to tell you something.”

“Very well. Shall I get comfortable?”

She smirked at him. “That’s up to you, my Lord,” and she stood. “I have long held the vision of my dragons all having riders. Drogon has benefited from my being able to mount and command him…”

Tyrion swallowed at that.

And Dany went to the window. “If you are able to do this, it would ultimately help them all.”

He didn’t answer.

“Well?” she looked at him. “Are you not interested in riding one of my dragons?”

He chuckled a bit. “Your Majesty…ever since I was a child, I had dreamt of seeing dragons. And now,” he looked at her. “Now, I dream only of being able to fly on one of them.”

“Then you shall,” she smiled, and began to walk toward him. “I knew that this would be.”

“What would be?” his brow furrowed.

“That you would be the one to help me tame the dragons.”

“I cannot tame anything, Your Grace,” he objected as she reached him. 

Dany knelt by his side and placed her hand on his. “But you already have,” and her eyes found his. 

“I don’t…”

“You have won my heart, Tyrion Lannister. You have accomplished that thing I believed to be impossible.”

His mouth hung agape. 

“And now,” her hand slid tangentially along his. “We ride North together to rid Westeros of her final and greatest enemy. It is poetic, is it not?”

He found his voice. “Please, Your Majesty…”

“Dany. You may call me Dany.”

His eyes squinted in disbelief. “Then tell me, Dany. After everything that I have done, how can you do this to me?”

“What?” she removed her hand from his, and rocked back a bit.

“I expected more. Much more, than the mockery I am receiving.”

She stood. “You think I am mocking you?” she whispered.

And he stood as well. “It’s most unflattering, really. There are many other, more attractive means of accomplishing your goals. And so you know, I do have feelings. Quite often they are hurt. As now,” and he turned to leave.

“Tyrion Lannister, look at me,” she spat.

He sighed, and turned.

“I am in love with you.”


	12. Chapter 12

He was frozen to the floor. Frozen, much like the air descending from the North.  
He refused to believe what he had heard, for it was not only impossible, it was ludicrous. He turned to leave, but he could not move.   
How could she do this to him? How could she claim this love, this thing that he never reflected on, never thought about, because it was hurtful, unthinkable…nor could he speak, for everything seemed to close in on him. 

“Tyrion?” Dany whispered…she was shaking slightly…he was not moving, nor was he looking at her. He had not uttered a word…she moved toward him a bit. 

“Don’t,” he said softly. The thought of her coming any nearer was agony.

“But…”

“No. Don’t make it worse.”

She closed her eyes. And she had thought that he would be happy! Surprised, perhaps…there was a small part of her that thought he may reject her, for Jaime’s assurances were no more than conjecture. But this…this she did not foresee. She stopped, and her hands balled into fists. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her solemnly. 

“How could you do this to me?” he choked. “I have been nothing but honest with you about everything…everything…and this is my reward?”

“I didn’t realize that my love was so repellent,” she replied with sorrow.

“Your love,” he repeated. “Your love!” he laughed. “Please, Daenerys. Please, do not insult me further,” and now he moved and retrieved his cup from the table to fill it once more. “You had your laugh, and I shall tender my resignation as your Hand,” and he drank deeply.

“You will do no such thing. How dare you speak to me in such a way. How dare you presume that I am lying about my feelings!” and she walked toward him, eyes flashing. 

“How could I assume anything else? You in love with me? If I weren't the joke I’d laugh.”

Dany swallowed, and took a steadying breath. “What are your reservations?”

“Where can I possibly begin?” and he sat, and put his feet up after taking another healthy draught. “Let’s see. I’m about half your height, for one. I’m positively hideous for another. I’m never taken terribly seriously…” and he finished the cup. “What do you think would happen, Daenerys, should you proclaim your love to the seven, hm? How do you think that would be received? So, you see. Not only is it a physical impossibility that you are being honest, it’s a practical impossibility as well.”

“Now who is mocking?” she spat. “Now who is being cruel?” and she poured wine and drank the whole of it. 

“That is your definition of cruelty? My dear, you show your age.”

“I’ve lived in the world, Tyrion Lannister. I understand things you don’t.”

“Now I know you have lost your wits.”

Dany’s anger welled, and she threw her cup at his head. “How dare you!” she shrieked, and having not used that tone in some time, her throat tore. 

He recovered quickly and stood. “I’ll not be abused any further, Daenerys. I cannot continue on like this. You have insulted me more than I have allowed most to because you are my Queen. But I have some pride, however marginal.”

“You speak of your pride. And what of mine?” she hissed. “I have done nothing but fret over these feelings for days. I have been through fire and ice…only to reach the conclusion that I am in love with you…and you mock my pain and laugh at my love. To think that I thought that you’d be pleased! But your own willfulness will be your undoing,” she backed away from him. “And you shall not be offering any resignation, Tyrion Lannister. You are my Hand. I’ll not seek another,” she paused. “Nor shall I love another. You have taught me the cruelty of it all.”

He was looking at her steadily. “How could I possibly believe you?” he said softly. “Look at me.”

“I see you. And what I see is the man I love,” and she turned and left him in the room, alone. 

Tyrion shook his head…he went to the carafe, but it was empty. “Of course it is,” and he rubbed the spot on his head that the cup hit. It was absolute madness that this was happening. This, the thing he had dreamed about since they had left Meereen a few weeks ago. Things never turned out the way he hoped, and he was certain that this was no different. 

Daenerys Targaryen, in love with him! What would Varys say? Varys…who suspected, much the way Jaime had, that he had developed feelings for the Queen.

Jaime…he sat up.   
He should visit his brother…

Tyrion made his way through the Keep, noting the chill and the darkness which pervaded. It didn’t take him long, and he wished it had, for it would have afforded more time to think. 

He came upon the guardsmen…He looked a them, and they looked at one another. “No one is to enter except her Majesty.”

“Well, seeing as how I am the Hand of the Queen, she will have no objection to my visiting the prisoner.”

They shrugged and moved aside. 

Tyrion knocked.

“Come in,” he heard Jaime say. 

He opened the door and saw him sitting at a table by the window.

“Well well,” Jaime said upon seeing his little brother. “Her Grace has sent you now?”

“No. I come of my own accord,” and he went over to the table and sat opposite him. 

“Are you not nervous, Tyrion? Daenerys is not to be gainsaid.”

“She won’t care,” he shrugged, not looking at him.

“Is she wrapped around your finger, little brother?” he smiled.

“I don’t know what you mean,” and he saw the wine, and poured himself some.

“That stuff will be the end of you, you know.”  
He drank deeply. “Something has to be.”

Jamie laughed. “Why are you here?”

Tyron licked his lips and finally looked at Jaime. “Her Grace had interrogated you last evening?”

“She was here.”

“And what was discussed?”

Jaime sat back and crossed his arms. “Many things.”

“Tell me the most important points.”

“Why?”

“Because,” and Tyrion raised his eyebrows. “I am asking you.”

Jaime smiled. “We discussed my sword, and if I would swear her allegiance. She then said that I would be needed to fight during a forthcoming war in the North.”

Tyrion nodded. “Was that all?”

“No.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Can you please give me the particulars.”

“She spoke a great deal about you,” he smirked.

He shifted in his seat. “What did she say?”

“What’s happened?” Jaime leaned forward.

He cleared his throat…he wasn't certain if he should divulge what had just happened between he and the Queen…it was embarrassing and he wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. But, then, he had come to Jaime for help. “Daenerys claims…” he cleared his throat, and he swallowed. He looked at his folded hands on the table. “She claims that she loves me.”  
There was no reaction from Jaime, so Tyrion looked up at him.   
His brother was looking at him with some confusion…”What is it?” he asked.

Jaime shook his head slowly. “Well, Tyrion, it would seem that you… you of all people… won the heart of the Dragon Queen.”

“Pardon? You believe this nonsense?”

“Well…she had said something similar to me.”

“She told you she was in love with you?”

Jaime rolled his eyes…but chuckled. “She said that she had conflicting feelings about you.”

“Well. What is to be done?”

Jaime hesitated a moment, but then…”Brother, I know you well enough to know that you have lain with whores, and that you know very well what to do.”

And now Tyrion rolled his eyes. “The thought of her in that capacity…” he shook his head once more. 

“Are you in love wth her?”

“Yes of course I am,” he replied irritably. “But I never dreamed that this would happen. I thought I’d just love her from afar and nothing would ever come of it. I’d watch her take lovers, and eventually marry. And that would be that.”

“Time to rethink, then.”

“But how can she be serious? How is this possible? It can’t be. That’s the answer.”  
“You drove her away?” Jaime asked disbelievingly. “Unwise, Tyrion.”

“What choice did I have? It’s preposterous that this can be true. Look at me!”

“I see you…and you aren’t half as ugly as you assume.”

Tyrion’s face contorted in disbelief. “What’s gotten into everyone? Or is it me? Have I stumbled into some sort of alternate reality in one of my drunken stupors?”

Jaime laughed. “Is it so impossible?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.”

“Why?”

“You see me. You’ve seen her,” he poured more wine. “I think that that says everything.”

“You are rather shallow, brother.”

“I am shallow?”

“Well, you are so preoccupied with your appearance, and hers…that you won’t allow the possibility that she might not share your concerns?”

Tyrion sat back. “Call it a lifetime worth of experience.”

And Jaime shrugged. “You may be letting your insecurities interfere with happiness.”

“Or I may be protecting myself from another heartache. One that I truthfully have no desire to experience.”

Jaime considered him a moment. “Do you know the Queen to be generally honest?”

His gaze fell. “Generally.”

Jaime nodded. “Do you have reason to believe that she cares for you independent of any…romantic…feelings?”

Tyrion looked at him. “I suppose so.”

“So, if she already cares for you, and is a generally honest person, why wouldn't you believe her?”

He felt tears stinging the backs of his eyes, and he hated it. He hated that Jaime was right. It was so much safer longing for that which you cannot have! And he…he was forever in a precarious position, for to make himself vulnerable meant so much more…”It cannot be, Jaime.”

“Why not,” he replied.

“Because…if it is, then what have I been doing my entire life?”

“Waiting for this moment, Tyrion.”

 

She was standing on the veranda of her quarters. The sky in the west was pink with the setting sun. No, Westeros was not everything that she had hoped for. But then, in some ways it was so much more. She felt as though she belonged here…in a way that she never felt in Essos.

But now, now she lamented her heart. Having revealed itself to her, and ultimately disappointing her, she was beside herself with anxiety. 

She felt Tyrion’s rejection acutely. She had suffered disappointment and sorrow in her life. Death had been such a large part of it. But loss, like this, not so much. 

Nor did she expect a rejoinder, necessarily. She confessed herself partly because of what Jaime had said to her. 

Dany wrapped herself closer.

She honestly did not care what he looked like. He was beautiful to her. He was her friend and her teacher. There were precious few in her life who held her respect the way Tyrion did. 

Maybe no one else.

Nor did she care what others thought of her love. She would happily confess it to anyone who asked. 

But not if he did not reciprocate. Therein lay her shame.

And yes, she had been undone, and that was shameful.   
Dany walked away from the window and thought that she might ring for Missandei. She would be able to report the progress of the clean up efforts.

She poured herself some wine and, quite suddenly, was overcome…  
She began to cry…

And Dany thought, during this episode, that she had not cried since her son died. 

What was it about Tyrion that inspired her heart? Was it his wit? His wisdom? 

Both, she thought…and she slumped in her chair. 

She would not be able to hide there much longer. She would need to prepare for a long journey northward in a few days’ time…

There was a soft knock on the door, and she took a cloth and wiped her face at the sound. “Come in,” she called.

Dany heard the door open and click shut. 

And when she turned, Tyrion Lannister was standing in her room.

“Apologies, Your Grace, for interrupting your repose.”

She stood, but said nothing,

He cleared his throat. “It seems,” he began. “That I may have behaved in an impetuous manner when we last spoke.”

Nothing.  
He swallowed. “That is not to say,” he shifted his weight. “That I am altogether convinced that this is…best. Nor that I can believe wholeheartedly that you are in earnest. You must allow me some time to process all of it, for, I honestly am having difficulty in accepting this as truth.”

She nodded.

“As we move forward, however, I’d like to offer you my apologies for my bad behavior earlier. For if you were sincere, it must have stung.”

Dany swallowed. “I’m always sincere.”

He smiled. “Well, I am not. So perhaps we can sort that out together.”

She chuckled. “What do you propose?”

“A wait,” and he moved toward her. “I need to wait.”

“For proof?”

“For comfort. And security,” he reached her. “I am making myself vulnerable in a way that I never have…I’d tell you all about it, but I suppose we will need something to talk about on the way to WInterfell in a few days.”

Dany nodded, then knelt before him. Her eyes were on level now with his mouth…and he swallowed. “Won’t this be tiresome, Your Grace? Having to kneel to look at me properly?”

“No,” and she touched his cheek. “It is a welcome change from people always kneeling before me. And,” she paused. “I assure you. You will be doing your fair share of time on your knees,” and she kissed his mouth very softly.


	13. Chapter 13

His heart was beating very fast…her lips placed softly against his…delicate, sweet…

But it did not go terribly far, as she pulled away. He could feel her breath against his face, but his eyes were still closed. “It’s been quite long,” and he opened his eyes. 

“You’d never know,” she said softly. And true, though it was of short duration, and hardly passionate, there was a fire which she felt at the touch. 

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Ordinarily I’d make some pithy observation but my acumen is somewhat diminished, and I’m rather exhausted by the days’ events.”

She stood. For a moment she thought about taking her clothes off in front of him and telling him to get into her bed. But that wasn't what she had agreed to, so she smiled instead, and she hoped that her smile illustrated both want and concession. “I understand. We have much in terms of planning to do, and a very short while in which to prepare.”

“That’s right,’ and he regained himself. “We are off to Winterfell. And to war,” he turned away from her and went to the chairs by the hearth where wine had been poured before his arriving in Daenery’s quarters. 

“Yes,” she took her wrap off and went over to him. “And so…” she took the cup away. “We must to bed, my lord.”

He looked at the cup forlornly, and bit his knuckle as soon as she took it. “But a toast is in order, wouldn't you say?”“What for?” she sat next to him at the small table.

“For…” and he noticed the way she brushed her her hair behind her shoulders, exposing the low cut frock she was wearing…suddenly seemingly lower. He cleared his throat. “For…our arrangement?”

“You believe that it is worth celebrating right now? Would it not be more prudent to wait, as you have suggested, until we both are more comfortable with things?”

“No,” he replied. 

And she smiled. “Very well. How can I argue with my wise lord?” and she poured them both a glass, and they drank. “Now, Tyrion. I think that it is time for me to retire. I, too, have had a draining day,” and Dany stood, never breaking eye contact with him, a smirk playing upon her lips. 

He nodded. “Yes. It’s best that her Majesty gets her proper rest.”

She turned away from him and went to her bed…she began to take her dress off…

By the gods, she is disrobing right before me, the brazen Queen that she is! And he stood immediately. “I’ll see you in the morning,” and Tyrion hurried from the room, thinking that he really must be in love, for he would never have thought twice about taking her there and then not so long ago.   
But he still was unsure and, thought to himself, if she really did love him, he would be bedding her soon enough. 

Dany crawled into her bed and sighed. She thought about how just an hour ago she was ready to despair…but now, now she felt warm. He had not confessed anything other than a willingness to try, and that was fine with her.  
She was nothing short of astounded at his esteem. He was filled with such self loathing…perhaps it was to be her charge in life, along with the rule of Westeros, to aid him in feeling better about himself.   
And then she thought that that would not be something that she could ever feel responsible for. All she could do was love him, and that would have to be enough…  
She fell into dreamless sleep with a smile on her face.

 

Tyrion was heading for the armory the next morning, and kept his furs close, as the chill was pervasive.  
The city was mostly in order…it hadn’t taken long for the Unsullied to see to the clean up. They are convenient to have around, he thought. The stones were wet with water, for they had frozen overnight and melted in the grey morning. 

“Good morning, Silas,” he said. “How are things progressing with the obsidian?”

“Fine my Lord,” and he showed Tyrion one of the blades fashioned from the rock from below. “Much of the obsidian were already crafted as blades, so there was half our work gone. We’ve been sharpening them day and night since we got the orders.”

“Indeed?” and he took one of the blades. “They were already cut?”

“Yes Ser. About half of the stores were cut. Dull, to be sure…”

Tyrion looked out of the window in the armory. Was it possible that the Night’s Armies had made it to King’s Landing in the past? Had they posed a threat so far South? If so, when? “Silas, tell me,” and he turned toward him. “Were there any ever legends of Wight Walkers in King’s Landing?”

Silas struck a thoughtful pose. “No Ser. No…in fact, most either never heard of the demons, or else don't believe that they are real.”

He nodded. “How old are these blades? That is, when would you say that they were cut?”

“Not thirty years ago, my Lord.”

Tyrion’s face lit up and nodded. “Thank you very much, Silas,” and he left.  
That was a most informative meeting…his pace was quick as he made his way back to the Keep proper.   
He was happy to see that most of the beggars were inside from the weather. It wouldn't do to have them about, at risk in the cold.   
If nothing else, Daenerys cared for the common people.  
He thought about what the prepared blades meant…and was struck by an epiphany…  
King Aerys…the Mad King…was having obsidian fashioned into weapons. That meant that he could have been fearful of Wights coming South, or that he had a report that they were coming.

Of course, the winter in which he ruled saw no Wights, neither North nor South. 

He entered the Keep and took his furs off, and saw Varys. “Well, Varys. Can’t say that I’m pleased, but here you are.”

“You are more than pleased, judging by the look on your face.”

They began to walk together. “You knew King Aerys, didn’t you?”

“You know that I did.”

“And when he went mad, claiming that he needed to ‘burn them all,’ at what point in the seasons was that?”

Varys slowed his pace. “Hm…well, it was spring when Jaime killed him…”

“And was it only spring that he said it?”

“No…no. I don’t think so. It was a slow progression of madness, Tyrion.”

“That was the defining element, though,” and they rounded a corner.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he looked at him. “To what do these questions tend?”

And now Tyrion slowed his pace some. “Silas, our master craftsman of weaponry discovered blades of obsidian already cut in the catacombs.”

Varys folded his hands behind him and looked thoughtful. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”

“What if the Mad King knew how to kill the Night’s Armies? What if he was saying ‘burn them all,’ not about his citizens, but about the Night Walkers?”

“But how would he know about them? The Walkers had not been seen in many, many years. Long before Aerys’ rule. They had become stuff of legend,” and they reached the Small Council room. “And they had never travelled this far South.”

“That’s the question, I suppose,” he opened the door. 

No one had arrived yet.

“No, that’s not the only question, I think.”

“No?” and Tyrion went over to the table. “I have a question. How difficult is it to ensure that there is wine in this chamber when I’m in it?”

“That is a fine question,” and Varys was seen lifting a finger to a guardsman, who left immediately. “But not the one I was thinking of.”

“How about this. Why must you be so deliberately obtuse?”

Varys laughed. “No…but I would like to know what our Queen will think of her lover being rather constantly drunk.”

Tyrion looked blankly at him. Of course the Spider knew. Even though nothing had actually transpired that could be remotely considered sexual…that mattered but little where Varys was concerned. “You will have to talk to her about it,” and he sat at the table in the Hand’s seat.

Varys followed suit and sat. 

And in came the carafe filled with wine. “Ah, here we are,” smiled Tyrion. “Makes meetings so much more agreeable. A necessary accompaniment to any gathering,” and he poured some out and sipped, smiling.

“Good morning, all,” Dany came into the room, and Tyrion swallowed quickly, for her abrupt arrival made him jump a bit. “Lady Olena will not be joining us. And Missandei is late, dealing with some of the Unsullied.”

“What seems to be the problem with our half naked soldiers?” Tyrion thought he knew the answer.

“They are reluctant, despite the chill, to wear the furs made for them.”

He smirked at that and sat back. “Hardly surprising, really. But they will change their minds once the winds are too bitter to take.”

Dany nodded. “And so we must begin preparations for our journey northward, Lord Tyrion,” she looked at Varys. “We will need the best routes to take. Where the dragons can rest. I imagine three to five days in the air, so we will need plenty of warm clothing.”

Tyrion smiled. “And food. We will need wine and food. And wine. Water…and wine. Cups. That sort of thing. And wine.”

Dany laughed. “It’s fortunate that I have three dragons. They will need to carry much on their backs, I think.”

“There will be no problem in seeing to these things, Your Grace. As for the route and the best places to camp for the night, that will be something that our cartographer can design,” and Varys nodded along with his slight smirk.

“Good. Now, I don’t have much today…Varys?”

“No. I think that once I speak with a few people, we can have a better idea of what we are dealing with in terms of placement and such. When were you planning on leaving?”

Dany looked at Tyrion. 

“Well, no more than a few days from now,” Tyrion said. “Lord Snow will not be getting there until next week at the earliest, and though arriving before him and Lady Stark is not, in itself, unwise. We wouldn't want to arrive too premature and start our relationship with the North off on bad terms.”

“I agree,” interjected Dany. “We will leave King’s Landing in three days. That will give the Stark’s time to arrive, and Lord Tyrion time to heal further.” 

“I assure you, Your Grace. I am perfectly sound of body,” and he sipped from his cup.

Dany cleared her throat, blushing a bit, and turned to Varys. “Can you see to arranging the routes?”

“Of course. And if there is nothing else…”

“No,” and she stood. “No. I think that’s everything. MIssandei and I can speak later. If there is anything pressing she needs to convey to the group, I’ll let you know.”

Varys stood, bowed to them both, and left. 

And Tyrion thought that he might just envy Varys…for women never distracted him, nor wine, from his purpose. 

He was a slave to these delights…and his Queen was testing him most unfairly.

She was looking at him steadily, then sat back down. “Is there anything further that you wish to discuss, Tyrion?”

His gaze found hers…”Yes, actually. There is something…”

“Oh?” and she sat back in her chair.

“This morning I went to our armory to see how the obsidian blades were progressing. Silas, the smith, told me that he had discovered ready made blades among the stores of obsidian in the catacombs.”

Dany’s face fell. “How old were these blades?”  
He was pleased to find that she thought about these things much the way he did. “Silas estimates no older than thirty years.”

Dany folded her hands on the table. “Tyrion…this may mean that…”

“That your father knew about the Wight Walkers.”

She swallowed. “How is that possible?”

“I do not know.”

Her hands fell to her lap. “Well, it may be that we will never know.”

“Jaime Lannister sits in his room here. He saw the King’s descent into madness. We can interrogate him, Daenerys.”

“We need him fresh and unencumbered for battle.”

“He is quite capable of handling some questions, even if on the eve of battle,” Tyrion protested.

“He’s your brother…” and I do not want to give you any reason to be cross with me…not until we get through this trial…”It can wait.”

He shrugged. “As you like.”

“Well…” she smiled. “What shall we do with our day, now that the Small Council adjourned so early?”

He looked at her, then looked outside. “Do you care for sport? Books? A tour, perhaps, of King’s Landing?”

“A tour?” she replied emphatically. “Through the eyes of Tyrion Lannister. That sounds lovely.”

“Then that is what we shall do.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Monarchs, at least by Lannister accounts, do not ordinarily walk the streets of King’s Landing. We can take the horses, or the Litter…” Tyrion stood.

“I wish to walk,” Dany replied. “I’ll cover up, and no one will recognize me,” she smiled. “I doubt very much that anyone knows what I look like, anyway.”

Tyrion’s face contorted a bit. “No…but your hair…that needs to be dealt with. And I’d prefer if we had Grey Worm or someone following close behind…”

“Nonsense. I’ll wear a hood. And I have a knife,” she paused, and stood. “And my dragons…Drogon knows when something is the matter.”

“Very well. I know better than to argue. But make certain that no one can see your hair,” and he began to walk out. “I’ll meet you at the north gate. That will lead us to Shadowblack Lane, and into the city,” and he left. 

Dany was excited. She clapped her hands and left for the Queen’s chambers. She would need some gold, her knife, proper clothing…  
She had never even left the pyramid to explore Meereen…and she lamented that. She should have been more bold.   
But the city was in disarray for much of her time there, and things were being tended to in King’s Landing. She refused to allow herself to feel guilty about this. In a few days, she would be seeing much of Westeros as she traveled north to fight a great war. Quite possibly, the war to end all wars…and she thought that she should enjoy herself a bit beforehand. 

And she would be with Tyrion…any opportunity she had to assuage his mind must be met wth enthusiasm.  
She called for her hand maid.   
“I need my hair to be invisible under a hood… we have had cloaks made for me, I trust?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Will you be out long?”

“All day, I expect,” and Dany sat so the maid could braid her hair. “I’ll need layers, I imagine…and boots…” she smiled.

“We have wigs that Queen Cersei had made, though she seldom wore them.”

“Wigs?” Dany had never heard of them, and she turned to the maid. “What are wigs?”

“They are false hair, my Lady. You wear it on top of your own.”

“Really? Do we have any that I can see?”

“Of course,” and the maid left a moment. She returned with two of these wigs, one was a strawberry blonde, the other was brown. Both were very long and silky. “They’ve been treated so that they smell nicely…and we would just pin it to your braid.”

Dany touched them…she could have different hair…”What about the blonde?” she decided that wearing the darker one might be a bit much…and the strawberry blonde one was still much darker than her own.

After about half an hour of preparation, she slipped on the boots, and the maid tied them fast. 

“You look like a merchant yourself, Your Grace,” observed the maid as she stood. 

“Thank you…though I cannot imagine that ever having been a compliment before…” and she slipped the knife into her belt. “I don’t believe that I’ll be back before supper,” and she took some gold and placed it in a pouch. Dany lifted the hood and pinned it to her dark blonde hair, then slid her hands inside the gloves which had been made for her. “There,” and she looked at the maid. “Thank you,” she nodded, and left for the north gate. 

She knew her way around now very well…and she wound her way through the Keep with ease. It was good that she spotted Missandei before she left…she approached her to let her know of her plans…

“Who are you?” Missandei demanded, backing away a bit. “How did you get in here?”

Dany stopped. Was this the way a merchant would be received in the Keep? She wasn't immediately sure how to handle this…should she play along or reveal herself? 

“I’ll call the guards if you don’t answer,” she threatened.

“No need to, Missandei,” and Dany took the pin out and lowered her hood. 

Her face fell…she was looking at Dany’s hair with a puzzled look…”Your Grace?” she asked, disbelievingly.

Dany nodded. “It’s what they call a ‘wig’.”

Missandei swallowed and bowed…”I beg your pardon, Your Majesty…I did not know…”

“It’s all right,” and Dany approached her. “I’m leaving with Lord Tyrion for the day. We are exploring the city…”

“Is that wise?”

“It’s what I am doing,” she said simply. “And when I return later this evening, I’d like to speak to you in my chambers. It won’t do to attack a merchant in the Red Keep, they are all my people, Missandei.”

She nodded. “You startled me.”

“I understand. Why don’t you take some food to your rooms and light a fire? I’ll be back later,” and she left. 

Dany walked with her head down in reflection about what had just occurred…Missandei was afraid, that much was certain. She could not fault her for that, it was a natural reaction in uncertain times.   
But Daenerys did not want to be afraid. She wanted to be comfortable in her home, and for the people whom she brought with her to be comfortable, too. 

She made her way to the north gate and went through…it was the first time that she had actually left the Keep since she took King’s Landing. 

And there was Tyrion, his back toward her, his hands folded behind his back…and she thought once more about how unlikely her favor for him, and how, indeed, unlikely her love.  
She approached him silently vilifying herself, for she truly did not mind that he was a dwarf…she could be lovely enough for both of them…but had the idea sprung to her mind a year ago in Meereen, she likely would have laughed. 

But then, she would never have gone gallivanting around a city unattended, or at least, without more than one escort, either. Tyrion had had an enormous impact on her in a very short amount of time…

“Good day, m’lord,” she said gruffly.

“Yes, it is, isn't it?” he replied without turning. 

He didn’t recognize her! She smiled and stood beside him. “Winter is comin’…”

“So they say,” and now he looked at her and smiled. And stopped…”Your Majesty?” he whispered. 

“Good day, Tyrion,” she smiled.

“You look….”

“Different?”

“Yes. That’s one way to put it,” and he looked her up and down.

“Well, shall we stand here all day or shall we go?”

Tyrion opened the gate, and they began their descent down Aegon’s Hill. “I thought we’d take Shadowblack Lane to the Hook, as it connects much of what Your Grace might like to see.”“And what do you suppose I’d like to see?”

“Well, there are merchants along the Hook…occasionally minstrels…”

“I want to see the fishmongers,” Dany stated with certainty.

“Fish…?” he began, bemusedly. 

“Mongers, yes. And I’d like to taste some of the fish stew.”

Tyrion smiled and laughed a touch. This woman was remarkable. “Then you shall.”

Dany nodded. “It is a winding road, is it not?”“Many of the lanes here are, due to the topography of the place. There are many hills and such, and a direct street was seldom an option for the planners.”

“You know a lot about this place.”“I know a great deal about many things…for that is what I do. But I spent a great deal of time here, so it males sense that I’d be familiar with it.”

“You know things?” and she smiled, looking at him.

“And drink, yes…” he nodded. “Look here, speaking of…” and a pub at the top of the Hook came into view. 

Dany looked, then rolled her eyes. Loving Tyrion Lannister likely meant stopping by a pub every chance one had. “Will you ever stop drinking so much?” she asked him as they entered.

“My dear, that is like asking if you will ever stop breathing so much. Or stop being so lovely,” and they sat a table as he winked at her.

Her smile was crooked as she joined him. “Tell me about Shae.”

He sat back and took his cloak off. “Why do you want to know about her?”

“Because you loved her,” and she took her cloak off as well.

He shrugged, but then saw her hair. “What did you do to you hair?”

“Oh! It’s a…hm,” and Dany struggled to think of the name…”…a…wim? No…wig! A wig. Your sister had them.”

He shook his head. “Cersei certainly had odd…but…fortuitous…taste in things,” and he raised a finger to the keep. 

“It doesn’t bother you to think of her?”

“No. She despised me. If I wasn't a kind and gentle man, I’d be glad she’s dead,” at this, the keep came over. “Do you have wine here, good Ser?”

“We do, m’lord.”

“A carafe, please, and keep it coming.”

The keep bowed and left the table.  
Tyrion looked at her…she was clearly waiting. He sighed. “What specifically would you like to know about my heart’s deepest sorrow?”

“I want to know…” she paused. “What made you fall in love with her.”

“Probably the fact that she genuinely seemed to care for me. But if you want to know specifically what it was that set her apart from the other whores…?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I suppose that’s what I’m getting at.”

The wine arrived, and the keep poured out the red liquid into cups for them. 

“She was clever,” and he sipped.

“That was all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

Dany sat back and sipped her own wine. “I suppose so. I imagine people fall in love for lesser reasons than that all the time.”

“Why did you fall in love with Khal Drogo?”

Dany looked away from him. Drogo…”He made me his. He claimed me, and I belonged to him in a way that I never had before. I was never wanted in that way before,” her gaze fell.

“So, he was the first to have given you the attention you craved,” and he drank.

“You make it sound so juvenile,” Dany replied, looking at him. “I know that I have not suffered quite the way you have, but I have had my share of it. And yes, it was lovely to have someone believe me to be beautiful and sacred.”

He looked at her with a sad expression. “I think you those things.”

Dany blushed. “Thank you.”

He drank deeply. “So. You wish to see the fishmongers.”

“I do, yes. I’ve always wanted to.”

Tyrion stood and left some gold on the table. “Then let us away.”

And she rose, and followed him out into the Hook. 

It was hardly bustling, but Dany kept her hood close, just in case the cold wind would pick up. 

“Ye got some bread?” an old beggar was tugging at Tyrion’s cloak. 

“Here. For bread and ale,” and he gave her a coin.

“You gave her money,” Dany observed.

“Of course I did.”

Dany was smiling at him. “Not many Lords do.”

“Well, many Lords are nothing but ignorant twats who care only for themselves.”

This is why I love him…”Well said,” and she followed him further. 

“My Lady…” a small child cried to her.

Dany stopped. “What is it, little one?”

“We are trying to make it to the shelters the new dragon Queen has put up…but it is a walk, and my mother is ill…”

“What do you need?”

“A coin. For help carrying my mum.”

Dany went in her pocket in the sly, and gave the child a few coins. She patted the child’s head. “Now get you back.”

“We had better keep pace up, or we will never make it to the Fishmonger’s Square,” but he was smiling at her with admiration. She was more fit to be a Queen than anyone he had ever known. Ned Stark included.

“You didn’t finish your tale about her.”

“There is nothing more to tell,” and they made their way through the dim midday light. 

“I’m sure that there is.”

“What exactly do you need to know? She was clever, she was a whore. She betrayed me. And I killed her.”

It struck Dany how flippant he was at relaying this information, and she slowed her pace. 

He stopped, and swallowed. “Dany…”

She looked at him, for it was the first time, since last evening, that he addressed her thusly. 

“It is not a proud moment of mine. I care not to relive it.”

“You understand my curiosity, though. She was your only love…”

“Actually,” and he began to walk again. “She was not,” he breathed deeply. “A word of advice, Your Grace. Try not to breathe in this part of the city…” and he looked ill. 

Dany laughed. “You loved another?”

“Yes. Many years ago. Tysha…another whore. Though I believed that she wasn’t. Sad, really. And Tywin had me watch her collect the monies from her clients to prove his point.”

“Your father was cruel.”

“Trust you for that.”

She looked to the sky, an eerie grey churning clouds in the atmosphere. “You fall in love with whores quite easily.”

“I fall in love easily,” and he was temporarily sidetracked by a shop…he lingered in the doorway, and went inside. 

Dany was confused, but followed him in. And there were trinkets made of metal hanging on the walls…candles of beeswax…and woven scarves…  
She touched the lovely things delicately, admiring the craftsmanship. “Have you made all of these things?” she asked the merchant.

“Aye, miss…” the old woman in the corner replied. 

“Lovely,” she whispered. And she heard Tyrion speaking with the merchant…Dany went to the candles and began to smell some of them.

“…and the Mud Gate is just below?” she heard him say.

“That it is.”

“Are they brewing the stew for luncheon?” he asked. 

“There are bowls of brown, to be sure,” the woman answered.

“No…the stew they make. At Symon Mae’s…”

“Mm…that I don’t be knowin’ Ser. But I thank’ee,” and she took some gold.

“Come, my Lady,” Tyrion smiled and led the way out of the shop. “Here. For you, against the chill,” and he handed her a parcel.

Dany smiled and took it..it was wrapped in brown cloth, and tied with string. She undid it, and out fell a glorious blue scarf. Embroidered in the sky blue material were small silver flowers. 

“You like that shade…and I thought it might be useful, since it gets dark and cold early now,” he dropped his gaze. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. And she bent down, and kissed his cheek. “It’s beautiful,” and she wrapped it around her head, and then her neck. 

He cleared his throat. “This way to the Mud Gate.”

“Odd name for a gate,” Dany observed, following him. 

“Yes. I do not know its story. But I’m certain I can make one up.”

She laughed. “And you fall in love easily?”

“Your memory is most unfortunately very good,” he sighed. “Yes. I suppose that I do.”

“And why do you suppose that is?”

“Because as soon as anyone shows me affection…I become attached.”

The smell of Blackwater Bay came wafting in. It wasn't pungent, but salty above all else.   
The Mud Gate was open to Fishmonger’s Square, and they went in. 

The place was bustling about with many folk. There were the day traders, and the other merchants who held permanent residence in the Square. There were children skipping stones in the harbor, there were mothers who were trying to bargain for some meat for their families. There were people playing instruments…  
Dany looked around in wonderment…it wasn't the most spectacular thing she had ever seen, but so painfully…normal. She didn’t have much in terms of normalcy in her life. Her face lit up at the scene. 

And Tyrion looked at her, looking at it. She looked much like a child, and he marveled at how she was able to appreciate what she saw. 

“Where is Symon Mae’s?” she asked him, still looking about. 

He shook himself out of it, and pointed. “Just there.”

And she walked toward it, and went inside.

The floor was made of mud, and there were a few wooden tables scattered about. There was a smallish counter at the back where people were purchasing fresh fish and bowls of brown. Tyrion walked with purpose to the back and went right up to the intimidating man behind the counter. “Two fish stews, please.”

“‘ey. Willie. Dis little fella wants some stew,” he laughed. “Din’t we eat it’all an hour ago?” he looked down at Tyrion. “Winter’s ‘ere. Ya fink we jus got stew comin’ aht our arse?”

“I think that if you want to be paid handsomely for your wares, you’ll spoon me and my Lady out some stew.”

Dany hung back some, and in came some of the fishermen from the docks outside. “‘ey, Willie. Sam. Where be dat stew?”

Dany giggled.

Tyrion watched the scene unfolding…and sure enough, yelling commenced in the shop. He backed away from the counter…

He took Dany’s hand, and led her to the kitchens, and there was a piping hot pot of fish stew.   
Dany grabbed two bowls and filled them, while he left a few gold coins on the table.

The pair snuck out the back.

She ran with her bowl to the dock where many ships were stationed, just coming in from the couple of hours of daylight. She walked along until they reached the end of the dock, and sat on the edge. Tyrion joined her. 

She sipped the stew, and licked her lips. “It’s good,” though admittedly, not quite as good as she was hoping. 

“I’ve had better.”

She sipped some more from the lip of the bowl and looked out into the harbor. Ships of all sizes were sailing in, and the amaranthine sky glowed in the cold mist. “Have you ever felt as though you were all alone in the world?”

“Quite often.”

“And what do you do to quell your loneliness, Tyrion?”

He cleared his throat and reached into his cloak…Tyrion pulled out a flask and took a sip, then handed it to Dany. “You’re not alone,” and he smiled at her.

“No,” and she sipped it long…

“It is a lovely afternoon,” he observed.

“And nearly night, now,” she sighed.

“Yes…just a few hours of daylight now,” he put the flask away and set his bowl down. “It is the dreariest time of life…these winters.”

“But now, since I have shown you affection, you are attached to me. And you needn't feel the dread of cold,” she nudged him with her arm. 

And he snickered. “There is that most unfortunate memory of yours. I’ll need to watch my tongue.”

“I can do that,” she replied with a playful laugh.

He looked at her smiling face, and wondered at his ability to hear her laughter, likely the most lovely song he’d ever heard. Her solemnity so subdued in his presence…  
And he leaned toward her, and placed his hand on her cheek…

…And he kissed her mouth, a bit deeper now, and she returned his kiss, long and languid now, where it was brief and sweet before…

Like the salt of the sea moving into Blackwater Bay, Tyrion and Daenerys embraced in front of the heavens chilling descent, their warmth the only refuge…

And she pulled away from him in a pant. Her eyes sought his, looking for acknowledgment…some declaration of love on his part. 

His hand fell. “We should get back before night falls fully. The city and the Bay are no place for the likes of us,” he stood, and held out his hand to aid her to stand.

She took it.


	15. Chapter 15

…and she felt suddenly quite safe. 

Odd, that…felling safe with a dwarf, but there it was.

Dany stood, and looked at him. He appeared to be quite uncomfortable, his brow furrowed in a frown. “Are you cross?” she asked.

“Why would you think that?”

“Your face. It speaks of anger, or something like it.”

Tyrion began to lead her, after dropping her hand, down the pier. “Of course I’m not cross.”

“Then what?” he wasn't looking at her. 

“It is nothing I’d care to speak about presently,” and they reached the Market. 

Dany thought that he was likely being silly…that there was something he felt inferior about, and it was preoccupying his thoughts. Perhaps he thought that he was being presumptive by kissing her, though she could not see how that would factor. She had declared her love for him…

They walked through the Market and up toward the Mud Gate in silence. Upon beginning their ascent through the Hook and the Keep, Dany was struck. “We should bring some bread up for supper.”

“Bread? There are bakers in the Keep to see to that,” he protested.

“But…wouldn’t it be nice to bring fresh bread from the market?”

Tyrion stopped and looked at her. She was stalling, he could feel it. He looked down. “The Street of Flour is not that far, I suppose.”

“Good,” and she wrapped her hood closer. She didn’t like his silence. Tyrion Lannister was almost never silent. 

The pair wove round the base of the Landing, close to the Bay, being left relatively alone by passers by and such. 

“Where are the beggars?” she asked. “There were more on the Hook.”

“On the Street of Flour, begging for bread.”

She nodded. .then she saw a flower merchant…where the lady obtained those flowers, Dany didn’t know…Dorne, perhaps? She walked over to admire them, their colors being vibrant in the gloom of the early winter day. 

“They won’t last,” Tyrion said behind her. 

“Longevity doesn’t render them beautiful,” she replied, smelling some of them.

“What makes a thing beautiful,” he stated, rather than asking, looking at the blossoms sadly.

“The admirer,” she replied with a smile. 

And Tyrion then looked at her, and he swallowed. “I don’t deserve you.”

Dany swallowed. “I’ll determine that. You need to allow yourself to feel, and not be so consumed in whatever you are consumed with.”

“She speaks the truth, m’lord,” said the merchant with a nod.

“Where are your flowers from this time of year?” asked Dany. 

“Dorne, m’lady. Fresh, too.”“Dorne,” she nodded. “Can you wrap these?” and she handed her some blue and purple blooms, along with some gold.

Tyron’s hands were shoved in his pockets. How humiliating! To be unsure of himself when she was practically throwing herself at him. But he was so unaccustomed to this type of attention…unless he paid for it. He was confident that he could woo any lady successfully…but her…for Daenerys Stormborn…for her to proclaim her love to him…and thenceforth to call him beautiful in her eyes…he still could not believe it. Indeed, his rational mind would not allow its truth. “Shall we?” he asked her.

Dany followed along. “Are we nearly there?”

“Yes. Just there,” he pointed to what appeared to be only a side street, but whose lights were already lit, and apparently vibrant. 

She smiled at the bustle. “Let’s find a pub first.”

He looked at her. “Truly, I could not ask for a better companion,” he smiled. “And look…just there, at the corner of the Flour…” sure enough, some people were leaving.

Very different from those they encountered at the Hook and the Market, Dany saw them to be jovial people, laughing and playful. “I like them,” she said as they entered the pub.

Tyrion walked to the back of the place where there were tables with longish benches on either side; on the way back, he nodded to the keep to follow. They sat, and the keep was right there, a beaming, enormous fellow with a thick beard and shining, black eyes. “Afternoon!” he shouted to them.Tryion winced. “We can hear you very well, my fine fellow. I’d like a pint of ale…my lady?”

“The same,” she nodded.

“And after that,” continued Tyrion, “A carafe of your finest red.”

“Right up,” he bellowed, and left.

“That man,” Tyrion rubbed his temples. “Will give me a headache before any of his ale.”

“Why did you order an ale? I’ve never seen you drink it.”

“Well, the Street of Flour boasts the best ale on the Landing. They are beer drinkers here, and best to drink such stuff here than anywhere else.”

Dany nodded, and her gaze fell. “Will you tell me why you’re upset now?” and she took off her cloak.

He sighed, taking his own cloak off now. He honestly felt as though she was prying into his innermost thoughts, and that was unsettling to him. The keep then brought two ales and a carafe of wine, and with the widest smile possible, bowed and left them. “I’d like to know his secret,” said Tyrion thoughtfully.

“For his mirth?”

He nodded.

“He is light and carefree.”

“But how?” he asked.

“It is about perspective, and not allowing those things which we have no control over, control us.”

“And that is how you rule?” he sipped his ale, and a look of doubt colored his features.

“No, of course not,” and Dany sipped her own. “But that is how I live my own life, or at least, how I attempt to.”

“Are you offering me advice, Your Grace?” he sat back with a smirk. “Your named Hand?”

“I told you that I understand things,” and a wry smile crept her mouth.

“Then what good am I?”

Dany longed to take his hand in order to reassure him…but his hands were folded, as though deliberately denying her access. “For a great many things, I’d imagine.”

He downed the ale. “I have never won the affection of anyone without paying for it. Save Jaime.”

“You think you owe me something?”

“No. But I find it impossible that you are either having a laugh, or else designing a scheme.”

“I see.”“Do you? Because I hardly do. I cannot see much at present, for my mind is clouded and hazy. I see your looks of affection, and I want to run. I fear that in the end, you will leave me alone as everyone else I ever have cared for has.”

“Jaime didn’t,” she swallowed, and downed her ale.

“Jaime did, he simply changed his mind,” Tyrion then emptied some wine into his ale cup. “I am protecting myself, Daenerys. Yet you continue to advance your agenda, and make me question myself.”

She was looking at him very steadily. “I am being very patient, Tyrion. I understand that you have many hurts that have not mended, mostly due to you loving someone who did not return your deep affection. I understand that I am paying their debts. And I am determining that you are worth the wait.”

“How? You’ve only just…”

“Just what?” and she leaned forward into the table to get closer to him. “Just recognized my love? Isn't that when it’s most desperate? Depth of love comes with time, but its urgency is immediate and profound. And I am navigating this alone, for you do not yet reciprocate,” she sat back and poured herself some wine, and drank half of it in a gulp.

By the gods, I must be a madman to continue to deny her…”You are not alone, as I said earlier.”

“It feels as though I am,” she turned the cup in her hands without looking at him. 

He swallowed. “I suppose it is unfair to allow you to feel as though I care nothing for you. For, in fact, it is simply not true.”

She looked at him…surprise laced in her features.

“Did you honestly believe that?” he was astounded.

“No. But it is nice to hear.”

He nodded. And he drew a deep breath slowly…”Daenerys, you are truly the loveliest creature I have ever beheld. You are, without a doubt, one of the cleverest people in all of Westeros…you are a benevolent leader and you have a kind heart. You have no qualms dining with fishmongers, nor stealing a stew. And yet you ride dragons…” he shook his head. “You honor every life, despite the carelessness with which it is treated…it is as though you were not real…as though you are a wisp of the heavens made flesh. As if the gods bottled their breath and gave it life…and I cannot believe, for all that I understand of this world, that you could at all care for me.”

Dany’s eyes held tears. She reached for his hands…and he allowed her to touch them. In fact, he unfolded them and held hers. “I wish that there was a way for me to show you my heart…a way that you’d allow me to.”

He swallowed, and took his hand from hers, drinking more wine. 

Dany sat back then, her gaze falling…”I love you, Tyrion. That’s all I know.”

He smiled and poured more wine. How he loved her! How he wished he could say it, without fear that she’d laugh and tell him she had been feigning all along…for he knew that he would certainly despair. “Tell me about Drogo.”

“Drogo? What do you wish to know?” she looked at him and drank the rest of her wine.

“I want to know…” he paused. “What he was like. How you saw him,” and he lifted a finger to the keep to refill their carafe.

“He was…” she looked to the ceiling. She would need to tread lightly. “Well. He was commanding,” and she looked at Tyrion. “He was passionate. A fighter…a mammoth of a man. But there was little we could speak of, really. I suppose my love for him transcended language…but in that way, it was unfulfilling…”

“You felt unsatisfied?”

Dany smirked. “Odd, I suppose, considering he was a Khal, and they have a reputation.”

He nodded, and his brows went up his forehead. 

“Make no mistake, I loved him…” she smiled at the keep as he filled her cup. “…but I think…” she paused. “Perhaps I loved his treatment of me more than the man himself.”

Tyrion looked at her thoughtfully. This was interesting…or she could be manipulating things…”You said that he was your one true love.”

“Yes, I did,” she agreed. “For up to that point in my life, he was.”

“And now…?”

“Well, now it’s obvious, isn't it? I had thought that Drogo was my chance at love…at romantic love,” she qualified. “And I lived my life accordingly. But then…” she paused and drank. “Then I learned of your marriage to Sansa Stark, and I went rather mad.”

“Mad?” and he recalled the episode after the marriage was discussed.

“Yes. With jealousy. And that was when I realized…that, and a dream that I had…that I was in love with you.”

He nodded. 

“I know that you don’t believe me…or are afraid to. And I’ll wait. You are everything that Drogo wasn’t, everything that I longed for in him. And if it takes a lifetime, I’ll wait,” she swallowed. “Though I sincerely hope it doesn’t.”

He couldn’t speak. He was moved beyond words…

“Well,” she snapped herself out of it. “Shall we get that bread, then? Now that we are sufficiently heady with drink?” she smiled.

He nodded, and put some coins on the table…

And with that, they left, the tenebrous cloak of night in a steady fall around them.


	16. Chapter 16

The air was beyond chilled as they walked, the scent of the bakeries filling the street. 

The two went along, a slight feeling of subtle euphoria filling Dany. This was what she longed for in her life, though she was loathe to admit it: some quiet times of simplicity and warmth.

She breathed in deeply, a sobering action, for she knew that really, her life would hold precious few of these moments. 

And she had known this all along…the House of the Undying had been relentless in its prognostications. 

It had been her choice.

She looked at Tyrion…he wasn't looking at her…

Tyrion was watching the ground as he walked along, in silent contemplation of what had been happening for the past few hours. 

Indeed, what had been happening for the past few days.

And he felt simultaneously like a fool and the most fortunate man in the world. 

He was equal parts foolish for believing her, and then for not admitting his love. He simply could not decide which was more idiotic.   
He didn’t like being idiotic. His wits were the only thing he had. 

“This one looks nice,” Dany said.

He nodded rather impartially. 

Her manner was quick in response, for she knew he had become suddenly reflective and melancholy. Her spirit wanted her to be exhausted by his changefulness. But her heart wanted only to reassure him. She opened the door and was overwhelmed by the scent of the baked goods. 

Some breads were brown, some were golden…all smelled and looked lovely. She held her bouquet close and went in more fully. 

“The golden loaves are very fine, miss,” said the baker. 

She nodded. “Three, please,” and she handed him her gold. “And what are you doing for the winter?”

“We keep as busy as Highgarden can send us wheat. Once that dries up in a year or so, we make only the brown from barely.”

She took the loaves and smiled. “What would you like from the new Queen?”

“Apart from a dowry?”

She smiled. “Yes. Apart from that.”

“Protection. And steady fire. Encouragement for the seamstresses to keep their work up during the winter. It will be a long one,” and he bowed, and turned to Tyrion. “Anything for you, ser?”

“No, thank you. I’ve had my fill of bread in life. I prefer to drink my sweetness,” and he nodded, and left.

Dany shrugged and followed. “Well,” as she pulled the scarf tight and lifted her hood. “Shall we back to the Keep?”

“I cannot think of a better idea,” he lifted his own hood. “And that, my dear, is saying something.”

She laughed, and hoped that he was easy now. “He spoke with more eloquence than those in the Market or the Hook,” she observed.

“Yes. The Street of Flour has a long history of educating, at least marginally, their young. I don’t know if it’s particular to bakers, or what. But, I imagine there is some skill in baking, whereas fishing, strictly speaking, is more…raw,” he finished. It felt good to be offering his knowledge with certainty, after spending so much time the past couple of hours in confusion.

Dany smiled at his wisdom. “I am so fortunate, Lord Tyrion, for your endless information.”

“I hope, Your Grace, that you are not joking, for my information is generally speaking, quite reliable. In fact, her Majesty herself has spoken of it as being positively beyond value.”

She laughed. “A Queen as wise as yours would surely take your mind as invaluable. A Queen might also recognize the worth of your friendship, if she was a wise Queen herself,” she dropped her voice. “And any Queen of worth would see you as a desirable companion in every way.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m certain that she is all of those things,” and he offered her a short smile.

Dany sighed, but regained herself…patience, Daenerys…”The Hook is just…”

“And wha do we ‘ave ‘ere?” a man’s voice came from behind her, and a moment later a large fisherman was in front of them both, a sinister smile playing upon his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. 

But Tyrion spoke, “We are passers by, my man. And we are only journeying up the Hook.”“Wif dat der bread?”

“Yes. With this bread,” he said with emphasis. 

“Are ya playin’ wif my way o speakin’?”

“No of course not, for I can, at the very least, understand you. But you are hindering our way. Kindly step aside so that we may pass.”

Dany was paying attention quite closely, and thought for a moment that Drogon might come…but instead, “Here you are. Have a loaf. Enjoy it and may it keep you warm this night.”

“Der, now,” the man replied. “Dats how ye be,” he took a loaf, then looked at her closely. “And what a perry thing ye are,” he licked his lips.

Dany touched her knife. 

…and Tyrion stepped forward. “We will be going now. You have your bread.” The man’s hand reached for Dany, but Tyrion slapped it away. “We are done here,” he said, and took Dany’s hand, leading her to the Hook. 

She looked behind her, and the large man appeared to be contemplating following them. He didn’t. 

She squeezed Tyrion’s hand…”He isn't following,” she said. 

“No. Well, he wouldn’t. He is dimwitted, and was dismissed by a dwarf. Had we lingered much longer, his pride would have swelled, and a fight would have ensued.”

They kept a brisk pace up the Hook…all uphill, now…and by the time they reached the North Gate, both were a bit winded. 

Tyrion closed the gate behind them. “The hearths are all blowing out their embers,” he observed as they walked inside. 

“What is the time?” she looked around at the night sky, and could just make out thick clouds heavy with snow above.

“Mm…just before supper, I think,” he took off his cloak. 

And Dany took her own off, but kept the scarf on. “Will you join me in my chambers for supper? I need to speak to Missandei.”

“You require my counsel for that?” he gave her a disbelieving look.

“I require your presence,” she paused. The hall was cavernous, and it echoed. “But, come later, after we’ve exchanged pleasantries, and she inquires after my day,” Dany smiled, then turned and walked back toward the Queen’s chambers.

Tyrion swallowed. Was she being a vixen? Perhaps…and, if she were, would he be able to perform, for he was nearly overcome with doubt yet and nerves.

He began to walk to his own Hand’s chamber, not far from the Queen’s. He passed a hand maiden. “I’ll be dining with Her Majesty in her rooms this evening. I believe that the Lady Missandei will be as well.”

The maid nodded, then turned toward the kitchens. 

And he walked on, avoiding any glass he might pass, for he was loathe to glance his reflection while contemplating these things. He would forever be mired with doubt about this, and she would soon tire of it, even if she was in ernest. He was positive that, given enough time, her head would turn, and he would break. What if Daario visited from Meereen on business? It would be natural for her to want to take him to bed…

He reached his room and went inside.

Tyrion began to change his clothes…mindful of his neck, for it was not completely healed, though his voice had regained its strength…and then, sat at his table and poured some wine. 

He should not be so preoccupied with these thoughts. His job was to counsel Daenerys, not make love to her. 

Though she was doing a fine job wooing him, and that made him wince.

He sipped his wine. He had not heard of many ladies who did the pursuing in a relationship, but then, he could not claim to have had much experience with Queens like Daenerys Targaryen. 

Tyrion sat back thinking that he would need to make a decision one way or the other quite soon. And he could not imagine denying her, for she clearly had no intention of replacing him as Hand, so he would be forced to live with that decision in his face for gods know how long…

He got up, and smoothed out his tunic and hair. He had let it get long, and a beard, which he had seldom worn, to boot!   
Well, if nothing else, it would see him warmer during the winter. 

He made his way down the corridor to the Queen’s chambers, swallowing and thinking about their outing that day. It had been, he reflected, a truly lovely afternoon. A sweet glow of light in the coming endless darkness…

He knocked on her door softly.

“Come in,” he heard her call.

He opened the door, and there was Missandei sitting with the Queen…his Queen…at her table. They were just eating some of the bread, and the flowers she had bought were on the table. 

“I gave some of the other bread to the maids, and to Jaime,” she said, standing. “But it’s quite good. Come, have some…” and she motioned for him to sit next to her. 

He nodded, and with his eyes on the floor in front of him, went over to her. He pulled himself into the chair, painfully aware of the necessary action for him to sit, and took a piece of the bread. 

Dany sat down next to him. “I was just telling Missandei about our day. But what I’d like to discuss further with your input, is the idea of the people having access to the Red Keep.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, looking from Missandei to Dany.

“Earlier,” Dany continued. “Just before I met you, Missandei was startled by my appearance…she believed that I was a commoner in the palace, and she was frightened, and threatened to alert the guards.”

“That is a natural reaction,” Tyrion observed.

“Yes, but I don’t want people here to be afraid of the commoners. They, too, are people. My people. I’d like to devise a way to handle such things,” and she spooned out some stew for them all.

“Well, with all due respect, Your Grace, you cannot legislate natural reactions to things,” and Tyrion tasted the stew. It was better than what they had had in the Market.

“No,” she agreed. “But I can outline measures to be taken when encountering an unknown person in the Red Keep, which is to followed everywhere in King’s Landing by my staff and advisors,” she then took a bite. “What are the thoughts you both have regarding this?”

“What do you think, Missandei?” Tyrion asked her. “How frightened were you? Would you have thought about steps needed to be taken to ascertain the danger, or lack thereof?”

“I suppose if we would have had this conversation beforehand, I would have,” she acknowledged. “I sensed no immediate danger. My fear came when Her Grace did not answer me right away.”

“So, if no weapon is spied, then perhaps we can concoct a plan of reaction to those who come inside the Keep,” Dany said with a nod.

And Tyrion smiled, and thought that this was a remarkable conversation to be having with a Queen.

 

Missandei stood. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she nodded at Dany. “Lord Tyrion,” she smiled. “I think bringing this to the Small Council in the morning, already thought out and designed. It won’t leave much room for debate.”

“I think you’re right,” Dany said. “Have a wonderful evening.”

Missandei bowed and left them there.

Dany stood and went to the fire, stoking it a bit and adding more wood. “I suppose we will need to discuss setting some in charge of obtaining wood for the Landing, and speaking to the other Houses about ensuring their own supplies.”

“She knows.”

Dany turned. “What?”

“You told Missandei, didn’t you?”“About what?” and she faced him fully.

“About…” he sighed. “You know about what.”

She folded her hands in front of her. “Yes I did. But only her.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes.

“Why does this bother you? I have no other confidants, save you.”

He looked at her sadly. “Because she is not doubt having a laugh about it all.”

“She is not. And even if she were, I wouldn't care,” she replied with her chin up…and Dany took a pillow, and sat by the fire. 

He could not imagine feeling more foolish, but he decided that he had, and sliding off his chair with two glasses and the carafe in hand, went to sit beside her. He was astounded at his gall, but the drink emboldened him, and his knowledge of her heart gave him a push. He filled her cup, handed it to her, then obtained a pillow for himself and sat next to her, sipping his own wine long. “I’m sorry. I have Jaime to talk to.”

“It’s all right,” she replied softly, and drank her own.

He looked at her…she was on her side, propped up by her elbow, staring into the fire…she was wearing dark blue, and her white hair cascaded down her back…”The scarf, it was as though it was designed for you.”

She smiled at him. “It does seem it, doesn’t it?”

He smiled small. “Does fire truly not burn you?”

“It depends. But generally, yes. That’s true.”

He shook his head and sipped again. “Incredible.”

“Tell me a story,” and she drank the rest of her wine, and laid down fully into her pillow.

Tyrion sipped long…”Casterly Rock is a fine place, large enough, and the pride and joy of Tywin Lannister, save his son Jaime. When I was a child, I would run around the castle, sword in hand, not caring that it was wooden…I’d slay beasts and men…until it became clear that I would never be slaying much. So I took to books. And therein I found my retreat. Hours I’d spend reading the stories of Westeros, and any time advisors came to the Rock, I’d sneak an ear to listen to them speak with my father,” he poured some more wine for himself. “I spent much time alone as a child, and it never bothered me. I preferred it in some ways,” and he drank. “One day, Jaime came and found me. He told me that I was needed outside, and that I needed to come straight away. I followed him outside as he said, and we went to the smiths. ‘What are we doing here, Jaime?’ I asked him. ‘You need a proper sword and some armor,’ he replied. ‘I’ll never fight,’ I told him. And it was true. Tywin would never have bothered to show me swordsmanship, but Jaime thought that he was silly, or so he said. ‘Every man should have a sword,’ he had proclaimed,” Tyrion drank some more wine. “The smith had crafted me a magnificent sword, and I was being fitted for armor. Jaime took the sword from him…I recall it being small in his own hands…and swung it about. ‘Come on,’ he said to me. ‘Let’s have a go,’ and I followed him into the meadow just beyond the Rock. We dueled for much of the afternoon…Jaime showed me proper stances, defensive and offensive maneuvers….and he told me that I had the makings of a fine soldier.”

Dany smiled. 

“We kept it secret. For much of that year we’d sneak away and duel. I know that he was easy on me, but it felt wonderful to be taught,” he sipped again. “Once Tywin discovered what we were doing, he had all of the amor taken and melted down. And I returned to my books, and never owned another sword.”

“The sword was melted, too?”

He drank the whole of his cup, and he nodded. “So, you see, I do not own a sword. But I can wield one, if necessary.”

Dany thought that the story was equal parts sad and lovely…and illustrated his love for his brother…she sat back up, propped on her elbow, and touched his cheek, directing his gaze. And she pushed herself up, and claimed his mouth in hers…

…and Tyrion leaned into the kiss, and pressed her back into her pillow…he felt himself stir, as he had not the other times they kissed…and he rolled on top of her…Dany welcomed him, her breath coming heavy, and he trailed kisses around her neck, down her chest, stopping short of her breasts…

He stopped, but then went back up to her mouth, and kissed her softly. 

“I don’t mind, Tyrion,” she whispered in between kisses…her hands were rubbing his arms, mindful of his neck…and trailing down his torso.

“I do,” he replied, and kissed her long and deeply, then pulled away. 

He never left her eyes…

“It would be a fitting end to our day,” she attempted to persuade him, reaching for him.

“It would, my lady. But I’d rather wait a touch longer.”

“You wish to make me suffer?” and she sat up, eyes ablaze.

“No, of course not,” and his heart fluttered at the thought of his refusal causing her pain, for it meant that yes. Perhaps she was genuine. “I merely need to think a bit more…I am not wholly secure, and I may never be. But I want, when we do come together, for me to be as sure as I possibly can be. Of myself, too…not just you, Dany.”

She sighed. “What you say makes sense.”

“We leave the day after tomorrow.”

“I know. And you’ll need to practice mounting a dragon…I’ll need to be there,” and she smiled.

“There is nothing that would give me greater pleasure,” he replied. 

She laughed. “I live to please my lord,” she smirked. “And I long to show him how much…”

“By the gods, Daenerys, you shall be the end of me,” and he leaned over, kissing her once more.

…the embers had begun their glow by the time they fell asleep in an embrace.


	17. Chapter 17

She felt his steady breath and soft rumble before she opened her eyes, and she knew where she was, and she smiled.

Dany then slowly opened her eyes…she had slept on the floor in front of her hearth with Tyrion. And yes, they had slept.

Not that she hadn’t tried, and he hadn’t responded…but it hadn’t progressed far, for she was still fully clothed, as was he.

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder more, recalling the night previous…

She moaned into his mouth as his hand roamed her body…he was deft at touching her exactly where she needed, even if she hadn’t known before she needed it…it seemed as though he knew her better than she knew herself, for every ministration elicited a passionate response from her, and she dug her nails into his back, deepening her kiss…

She nearly blushed at the recollection. She remembered his arousal pressed against her, and she grinding against him, nearly pleading with him to consummate her feelings. 

But he did not, and every attempt she made at disrobing him was met with his hand around hers, never breaking the kiss, and directing her elsewhere.

It was simultaneously frustrating and wonderful. And she couldn’t decide which was more intensely felt…

She stretched a bit, and felt him stir…when she looked at him, his eyes were still closed in deep sleep. 

She wondered the time, if it was morning yet. 

Dany got up, and went to the window, looking out. 

There was a soft grey illuminating the sky. She thought that it must be dawn, and wondered how she would ever be able to recognize the dawn when winter was in full force. 

She opened the curtains and backed away. Today she would see her babies…it had been a few days. She smiled at the thought. 

And she would ride Drogon…how she longed to feel him beneath her! Her face was contemplative as she turned away…

“You are more lovely than the first dawn of spring.”

Her eyes snapped to Tyrion, who was now awake. “I doubt that.”

“I never exaggerate,” and he stood. “Not unless it is useful for me to do so,” and he stretched, feeling his wound pull. “Today we meet the dragons.”

“Yes. Perhaps after the Small Council and we break fast. It should take much of the day.”

He nodded, and a look formed on his face.Dany smiled. “What?”

“Last night was lovely.”

Part of her longed to say that it could have been lovelier, but that would not have been useful. “It was…” and she went over to him. “I marvel at your self control,” she sat down where she had slept.

“As do I. I am normally not so disciplined.”

“Then it is my misfortune.”

He sat next to her. “You amaze me, Daenerys. I am merely preparing myself to savor you.”

She smiled. “Does that mean that you reciprocate my feelings?”

He cleared his throat. “When the time is right, we will discuss this. As for now, we must ready for the Small Council and dragons.”

She nodded. “Then I’ll need to get dressed,” and she stood.

“As do I,” and he followed her lead, and took her hand, kissing it. “See you in a bit.”

She nodded, watching him go. Dany sighed heavily.

Then turned and went to dress.

 

He was watching Varys closely. 

And he was watching the Queen with rapt attention. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. He would have to confront the Spider after the meeting. Surely his mind was churning things…

“Then Lord Tyrion and I will be off to the dungeons, where they are being kept. I need to ensure their warmth and their abilities to withstand the cold. If they cannot, we will need to devise another plan.”

“The sooner you make your way, the better at beating the frost,” Varys said.

“You should have left immediately,” observed Olena. “And what is going on with the Queen Slayer? Is he still in his rooms?”

“He is. Though I have had him out a bit to keep his strength up. It wouldn't do to have him holed away for weeks only to throw him into the middle of battle. He leaves tonight for Riverrun.”

“And who will be accompanying him?” Olena demanded.

“Bronn. And a small calvary.”

“Well, now that we have fully dissected Jaime’s chaperones, Her Majesty and I need to see to some dragons. Varys, I think I’d like an escort, if you don’t mind,” Tyrion stood. “We have approved the measures dealing with merchants in the Keep, the maps the Queen and I will use on our journey tomorrow, and I think that does it.”

Dany smiled and nodded. “I’ll be along shortly.”

He turned. “Varys, if you will,” and he looked at Varys, then left the chamber.

“What do I owe this particular pleasure?”

Tyrion laughed. “Is it pleasurable? I’d think that there are many other means to obtain pleasure than walking with an imp.”

“You certainly would know, my Lord.”

He scoffed. “I’m quite certain that you have spent endless hours in silent watch. Tell me, why were you looking at Her Grace so intently during the meeting?”

“Jealous?” he looked at Tyrion and smirked.

At this, he stopped, and wagged a finger. “Don’t play coy, Spider. I know what you are about. How much do you know?”

Varys folded his hands across his stomach and turned to walk again. “She is in love with you.”

“And you know this how? By observing her visage during a meeting?”

“No. By observing everything about her from the time we landed here a few weeks ago. She is positively yearning…and you have denied her. You are more insolent than I thought.”

“I have not denied her outright,” he muttered.

“And so how have you denied her? In small spurts? Tyrion, you love her. Why must you make the both of you suffer?”

They reached the dungeons, and Tyrion looked around to see if there were spies or maids about. “I simply cannot believe that it is real,” he looked at him. “And if you repeat this I’ll not think twice about ordering your tongue removed.”“I wouldn't dream of it…not when you have the Queen’s favor in nearly every regard.”

He rolled his eyes. “How is it possible? How do I know that she is not lying?”“Think about what you are saying. What would she gain by lying?”

He shook his head.

“Is she not an honest Queen?”

“She is.”

“Have you ever known her to be misleading?”

“No. Not that I recall,” and he thought of his conversation with Jaime. Everyone was telling him the same thing.

“Then she is being honest.”

“It isn't even that I necessarily think that she is being dishonest, really,” he continued. “It’s more…” and he opened the door. “More that I don't trust her to maintain her love. And that I will, and there I will be. Broken hearted yet again.”

He followed him into the dungeon below. “Well, no one knows that, Tyrion. Everyone enters this type of relationship with the threat that they will be left.”

“But it’s so much more a threat to me. Surely you see that. Every person we pass is more handsome than I am…” and they walked passed an armored guard. “Well, excepting that fellow, perhaps. He appears to have a pox.”

Varys laughed. “You worry too much.”“I worry as my mind sees fit.”

“Tyrion, you are not ugly. You’re short. That’s all.”

“Don’t toy further with me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, my lord,” his smirk was to be heard in his voice. “But you are being silly. How many people desire to be in your position, even as we speak? Many, many men love Daenerys Targaryen.”“Precisely my point,” he hissed, and they heard the not so distant roar of one of the dragons. “And every one of them are taller, and likely more attractive.”

“But not one of them are more intelligent, and precious few more witty. Come, Tyrion. Don’t be stubborn.”

“You flatter me, Varys. I’ll need to put you on a chain and lead you around to bolster my opinion of myself whenever I feel the need.”

“There aren’t enough hours in the long winter to accomplish it effectively,” and they reached the pit where Daenerys was waiting for them already. 

She looked up at them, and smiled. “Come, my lords.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. But I must be off. I’m arranging for all of your necessary provisions tomorrow, and need to see to the final aspects of it.”

Dany nodded. “Then I shall see you later, Varys. Come, Tyrion, we’ll take them outside.”

Tyrion drew a deep breath and walked down to where she was. It was not so cold in the dungeons, as the earth below ground maintained a steady temperature. He approached them a bit cautiously. “You remember me, don't you? The help?” and he walked toward Rhaegal, who growled deeply.

“Not him,” Dany said. 

“No?”

“No…try Viserion.”

So Tyrion walked toward the white and gold dragon…and he did not flinch. He appeared to be sniffing him…Tyrion stuck out a hand to touch him, then looked at Dany for reassurance.

She nodded, keeping a close eye intent upon him. 

He reached Viserion, and touched his scales…”Magnificent,” he said. Viserion nudged him with his nose.

Dany laughed. “Good. You have your mount,” and she began to close up her cloak. “We will lead them outside,” and she looked at Drogon, who followed her at once. 

Tyrion cleared his throat. “Very well, Viserion, you heard her. Off we go now…” and he began to walk.

The dragon stood for a moment. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” he said.

The beast stood, and lumbering next to him, left through the enormous gate to the grounds. 

Dany was waiting for them both with a smile. “This is good progress.”

“Is it? I only just had him follow,” and he wrapped himself tighter with his cloak.

“And how many do you suppose could convince a dragon to follow them, instead of swallowing them whole?”

“Good point. But let’s avoid such examples which involve swallowing of men. I wouldn't like to plant any seeds here,” he rocked on the balls of his feet.  
The ground was not frozen yet, but it crunched under his feet…the grass was all entering dormancy, and the leaves were gone from the trees. The grey in the sky was thick with moisture, and Tyrion wondered if it would snow.

Dany smiled. “Now, when you turn toward him, he should lower his wing…climb up the wing to his back and hold on to the scales…”

He nodded, gulped, and turned toward Viserion. “All right. Now, you lower your wing as your mother just said…” and he did, to Tyrion’s astonishment. He rubbed the palms of his hands on his pants and climbed up the wing. He didn’t realize just how large the thing was until he was clambering onto its back. He took hold of the scales which were larger around his neck. 

Dany nodded, then shouted over, for the dragons were becoming restless. “Hold as tightly as you can, follow me, right after you say, Sesīr kipi!” 

…and Drogon took flight. 

“Good gods,” he muttered. “Sesīr kipi!” he closed his eyes…and he felt the sensation of his equilibrium being compromised…the cold air in his face…and he held on for dear life…

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Drogon and Daenerys were just ahead of him and Viserion, and that they were a few hundred feet above King’s Landing. 

People were screaming beneath them, and Dany pulled Drogon up a bit. 

“How am I to do that?” he whispered…but Viserion was following Drogon, so he rose a bit as well…

It was an incredible thing, riding on the back of a dragon. One of his life’s dearest wishes. To have a dragon. 

And now he did.

He smiled against the chill…a genuine smile, and he felt himself soar through the air, above so many people…it was odd indeed to look down upon them, when he was so used to looking up. 

They circled round when they reached the peaks. And he felt the muscles of the dragon in constant motion…it was a marvel…to be in somewhat command of such a creature. 

Dany led them back to the Keep…and he was almost sad to be done. 

They landed, and she dismounted. “I think that they should be all right in the cold. The snow, I cannot say.”

“You think that they can withstand the cold in the North?” and he slid off Viserion.

“I think so,” though she looked at them both with a concerned eye. “But you have your dragon. That is the material point. Let’s practice some maneuvering…”

And she got back on Drogon, while Tyrion mounted Viserion, and they spent the next few hours not worrying about leaving the next day, nor the impending war.

They flew about King’s Landing mostly carefree, enjoying the wonder of the dragons and one another.


	18. Chapter 18

That night he went to his chambers with a smile on his face. 

To think, he had rode on the back of a dragon! It was almost too much. Tyrion walked into his room to find the fire burning, and the bed welcoming. He sighed…Dany could be somewhat impatient in her instruction, but that hardly surprised him. She had not been cruel…and he went to the table, poured some wine, and sat down. He had needed to remind her several times that he had never rode a dragon, and that it might take him a few attempts to master it.

She had sighed and then smiled.

Tyrion drank deeply of his wine, and looked at the fire. 

Tomorrow they left. Jaime was on his way to Riverrun…the forces were amassing in the North. Hopefully there would be enough obsidian to take care of the Wights…

And if not, well. 

He would not think on that.

Tyrion drank the rest of his cup and took off his clothes. He climbed into bed, thinking about the travel which awaited him.

 

Dany was on the floor in front of her hearth, holding a pillow. She sat in a meditative state, pondering the task ahead. She was confident that her dragons could mount a good enough attack to level the whites. But the leaders…the Night King Jon Snow had spoken of…that she was less sure of.

The battle plans had been drawn, but how much could she rely on those when what she was dealing with was the undead? Impossible.

The undead…

…endless winter.

And she had fought to obtain this for six years of her life.

She sat back some, thinking about Jon Snow. There was something unique about him and his manner…something undeniably sincere and good. And oddly, something familiar.

She thought about Sansa, and the way in which she looked at her half brother. Dany smiled…she believed that she understood that look, as well as the desire to keep it hidden. Though she had known of the history of incest in the Targaryen family, she knew that it was frowned upon in almost every other family.

Except, perhaps, the Lannister’s.

Tyrion had forgiven that sin readily…as did she.

You cannot control who you love…she had uttered those words.

And she believed them.

Dany’s gaze fell…

He had done well on the Viserion that day, almost to the point that she was confident that he would be fine tomorrow.

Almost.

She smiled.  
He would need her by his side for the journey…

And she believed that he was so close to declaring himself to her…she sensed it there, nearly falling from his lips…but never quite there.

Dany rose from the floor, and imagined herself going to his chambers and demanding that he confess his heart to her, even if it meant his refusal.

She honestly believed that he meant to tell her he reciprocated, but his uncertainty was preventing it.   
There was a chance he didn’t, but she thought that his behavior to this point suggested otherwise. He was receptive of her kiss, declarative of his own positive regard…he simply had not said I love you.

And she needed that. She needed to hear those words.

She went to her bed and changed her clothing, and climbed in. She would not go to him…she could wait.

Though her dreamland was determined to see her act…

 

The sun woke him, dull though it was.

His eyes opened, and his mind jumped to the day ahead. He sat up and went to the window. Part of him was terrified. The other part was thrilled.

He didn’t think that he was tall enough to house these conflicting emotions…

Tyrion went to change his clothes, and his maid came in after he rang the bell. He dressed in his travel clothing, and went back out. ”Please be sure that all of the warm clothes are packed tightly.”

“Yes, Ser,” she replied.

“Thank you…” he smiled. She was a lovely thing…and he felt nothing.

He had almost wanted to…it might have made his love for Daenrys less…potent, in his mind. But unfortunately, he was true of heart, and no one would be able to replace her. 

She nodded, then left him.

Tyrion straightened his clothes and left, hoping that it wasn't the last time he looked upon the Hand’s quarters.

“You appear to be rather chipper, considering the task ahead of you.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have some insects to consume, Varys?”

He chuckled. “I had breakfast,” and he folded his hands in front of him as he walked with Tyrion.

“That’s unfortunate. You’ll be starving before long. Your little birds won’t be doing much flying with winter here.”

“I’ll survive,” and he smiled. “Have you given any thought to our conversation yesterday morning?”

“I try not to give much thought to the things you say.”

“I’m thinking only of you and your happiness,” he replied, dripping with sincerity.

“Oh please. You are about as selfless as a Lannister in Braavos.”

They turned a corner. “You will be alone with Her Majesty until this evening. That is plenty of time to declare yourself.”

“Yes. And most of that time will be spent on the back of a dragon.”

“You are making excuses.”

Tyrion stopped. “Varys, I tire of this subject. Have you anything useful to say?”

“I always have useful things to say, if one pays close enough attention.”

“I think that you are confusing yourself with me,” and he started to make his way to the dungeons, but he put his cloak on first.

“Try, Tyrion. It will make everyone happy.”

“What do you mean? Do you honestly think that the people of Westeros want me, an imp and a Lannister, to be romantically linked to Daenerys Targaryen?”

“I believe that if Her Majesty is happy, everyone will be happy,” he shrugged.

“You overthink her abilities, I expect,” and he pulled his hood up.

“Only you can answer that, my friend.”

Tyrion opened the door, and looked at him. “Me? I, of course, would not know.”

Varys chuckled and followed. “Well, then perhaps no one will know. But I believe that it is time for you to stop being so stubborn.”

“How do you know that I haven’t made that decision already?”

“I don’t know, but I’d be pleased to learn of it.”

The passageway was dank and dreary…Tyrion was happy that they’d be out in the air before long. “Where are we staying this night?”

“The House of Vance. His Lordship is eager to meet our Queen.”

“Is there enough room to house the dragons?”

“I expect so. And many of the river land’s armies will be leaving this day, and will likely arrive just behind you tomorrow evening.”

“Are they that quick, you think?”

And the outside air met them. “They understand the urgency. As you know, many of the houses further south have been marching these past days.”

There were some of the maids, a few calvary, and Daenerys. She was issuing instructions and wrapping herself closer against the cold.

He swallowed, then made his way over to her. 

“…and I want you all to keep the fires going. The Unsullied have their instructions. They are to continue the gathering of wood for the hearths in King’s Landing,” she nodded. 

“Your Grace.” “Your Majesty.” They all responded to her command. 

“Good,” and she looked at Tyrion. “Well…Varys. We must be off,” she smiled at the Spider. “Take care of it all. With the gods smiling on us, we will be back in under a week.”

“Your Majesty’s home will be ready to welcome her,” he nodded.

“Come, Lord Tyrion. We have no time to waste,” Daenerys went to Drogon and climbed on his back. 

Tyrion nodded to Varys, who offered him a look that spoke of impatience, and with an eye roll, smiled at everyone else. He got atop Viserion, and looked to Daenerys, who smiled. “Ready?” she asked.

“As ever,” he replied…  
“Sesīr kipi!” they shouted in turn, and the three dragons took flight.

The cold seemed to be even more dire and ominous than it was yesterday, as it pressed against their faces…and they both wrapped them up more against the wind. 

Tyrion held tightly, for he felt as though they were flying much faster than they had before, and he felt the slipstream pulling him back…

Dany was effortless, though the cold was trying. She laid her cheek against Drogon’s back in an effort to avoid the blast of wind. 

Because they were flying so high, the ability to see was greatly hampered, and Dany thought that it was a shame. She had imagined being able to see her Kingdom from above…but the altitude and the snow was too much for her eyes.

She looked back at Viserion, but could not see Tyrion. This was unconcerning, really…but she hoped that he wasn't too uncomfortable.

After about three hours of flight, Dany began to direct Drogon downward. They would rest and eat something…

They landed on the edge of a forest, where she thought that the dragons could rest without the falling snow on their snouts. 

She slid off, and looked around. 

The other two landed, and Tyrion fell off. “By the gods…that was…” his face contorted as he stretched it out. 

“Was what?” Dany asked without looking at him.

“It was simultaneously wonderful and hellish,” he replied, looking around. “Much like drinking too much wine,” he paused. “Speaking of…” and he went to Rhaegal, taking down some of the supplies. “Shall we light a fire?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to lead them over there…there is a small stream they can drink at,” and she walked away, leading her three babies toward the water.

“I hope it isn't frozen,” he muttered, opening the carafe.

He set about, after drinking half of it, setting a small fire. It didn’t take long, for much of the wood along the periphery of the forest was dry. Dany returned a bit later, looking tired.

“It was a harrowing journey,” he observed.

“And we have about four more hours before we reach Wayfarer’s Rest ,” she took out the map in her cloak.

He nodded. “Sit, Your Grace,” he motioned for her to sit next to him on a rock.   
She took some bread out of the bag and sat down, nibbling on it, and handing some to Tyrion. “I did not sleep well last night.”

“No?” and he bit into the bread.

“No…restless sleep…full of dreams and terror…”

“You worry about the war in the North?”

“Yes. And other things, I expect.”

“Such as?”

She paused. “I’d rather not say.”

He looked at her crookedly. 

And Dany sighed…”I had a dream that you died.”

He laughed. “Oh! But how many times I have dreamed that dream, Daenerys!”

“It isn't funny,” she scolded. “It was awful. And I watched, as you turned into a white…”

Tyrion swallowed. “Yes. I can imagine that to be rather awful.”

“Exactly.”

He sought to change the subject. “We are to meet one of the lesser, but still great, houses of the river lands this night. The Vance’s were faithful to your father.”

“I know.”

Tyrion dropped his voice…”Do not be uneasy, my Lady. I have survived so very much. An army of the undead is nothing in comparison.”

She smiled, then looked at him. Dany nodded. “Have you had your fill of wine?”

“That is like asking a Baratheon if they have had their fill of food.”

She looked at him blankly. 

“If you’d have seen Robert…never mind. Let’s be off,” and he stood, the dragons lumbering toward them.

 

They did not stop until they reached Wayfarer’s Rest. It was not a large castle, but appeared to be relatively warm. 

The pair slid off their dragons and was welcomed by the guard, then led into the palace. “Will we be dining with Lord Vance?” Dany asked.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Following your rest in the rooms set aside for you both…”

Hand maidens were waiting in the corridor, and they bowed as the pair reached them. “Come with me, Your Grace,” one maid said. “Ser, this way,” another said.

And they followed them toward their individual rooms…

Dany was happy to rid herself of her traveling clothes. She washed and dressed herself in her blue gown…now with long sleeves and a high neck for the cold. 

She had lamented not having more time with Tyrion…she had hoped that they could have reached an understanding before entering any battle.   
Especially considering her dream, and the fact that she did not know if either of them would survive this mysterious war.

The maid was fixing Dany’s hair. “You look very fine, Your Majesty,” and she stepped away. “Supper will be at seven.”

“What is the time?”

“Just past five, Your Grace,” she bowed. “Will you be requiring anything else?”

“Yes,” she turned and stood. “Where is Lord Tyrion’s room?” she smiled.

 

He nodded at the hand maid. “You needn’t trouble yourself further,” she was fussing about his room, trying to straighten it after he was dressed.

“Yes, my Lord,” and she bowed, leaving.

Tyrion noticed the full carafe on the table and smiled. Varys must have said something. 

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called, and he heard the door click closed. “I really do not require anything else…” and he turned to see Daenerys standing in his room. He stood quickly and bowed. “Apologies, Your Grace. I thought you were…”“The hand maid. I gathered,” and she went over and sat across from him at the table. 

“Yes,” and he sat as well. “Well…I…”

“I need an answer, Tyrion. I know that I told you that I would be patient, but after last night’s sleep, I cannot. I won’t ask you to do anything that you are uncomfortable with…” she swallowed…she was speaking very fast. “I won’t do anything, or…” she looked at him. “But if you were to…” she dropped her gaze. “Or if I were to die, not knowing…it would be too much,” she folded her hands on her lap. “I’m begging you, please, tell me what you are experiencing,” she said with passion, and looked at him once more. “Even if you do not love me, please…I need to know.”

Tyrion looked at her sadly. “Dany…” his breath came fast. By the gods, he could not deny her one more minute…”Of course I love you. I would be a fool not to…and as you know, I am no fool.”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Tell me again.”

“You…” he shook his head. “Your presence is like a fire…your face like a dream…you are my salvation, my destiny, Daenerys Targaryen. I love you, and my love is as constant as the breath in my lungs and the beat of my heart…”

She laughed a touch, and covered her mouth with her hand…”Tyrion,” she said after her hand fell, and she looked at him. “Thank you,” she swallowed. “And now, somehow…we need to sit through a supper.”

“Gods be good,” he gasped, for he had done it. He had confessed…and it felt like an anvil had been lifted from his chest…and he wanted only to make love to her that night…there. Now…the immediacy of the impending result of the confession bade him to have her…

But supper called, and it would need to wait.

It would be an endless meal…


	19. Chapter 19

Relief washed over her like a cleansing spring. She was lifted from the depths of uncertainty and placed carefully into his arms…and she would protect him, as he would protect her…

And she would make him her King, the others be damned…

She felt him her equal in everything at that moment, he was as much her as she was him. And she longed to be alone with him, to stay there and, even if it was only to talk, to talk with him.

Her love…realized at last, for though it had been mere days, it had felt like a journey of a thousand miles…she thought that the Red Waste was nothing in comparison.

Dany smiled at him. “I should go now,” and she stood. 

Tyrion nodded. “What is the time?” he appeared to snap out of a trance held by her.

“I do not know. But supper is at seven, and if I stay, we will never make that time.”

He swallowed. “How am I to eat? How am I to do anything?” he looked at her with a solemn face. 

She smirked. “As you do everything, Tyrion. And with the knowledge that you will be visiting my chambers later this evening, if you wish,” she added the addendum with a cock of her brow. “I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No. Though I assure you, all reservation has been erased from my mind. I am quite comfortable,” his gaze traced down her body. 

“Good,” she smiled. “Then…until later, my Lord,” and she turned and went to the door, overcome for a moment at his steady stare.

“Dany?” his voice was soft.

She stopped and turned toward him. 

“Is this really happening, or is it but a dream?”

Her eyes fell a moment, considering how to respond…she went over to him with purpose, placed one hand on the armrest, the other in his lap…she bent down, and claimed his mouth, kissing him hard, then bit his lip.

She pulled away without preamble, and left the room. 

He was almost instantly hard at her touch, and was so utterly undone by her action that he needed a moment to regain himself. He poured more wine and rubbed his face. 

He couldn’t believe that he had done it. He knew that he would, eventually…but he had actually said the words. And he needed now only to trust her. 

Which he must, since he loved her.

He had placed everything he was in her hands, and as unsure and disconcerted as he felt, he was also relieved to have done it. He had been dancing along a very thin line for weeks, and it was trying to continue. 

And that night he would love her. And it would mean so much more than others he had bedded…for Shae he had fallen in love with after the fact…but Dany he was in love with now, and had shared but a few kisses. It would be odd to actually make love to someone…

He sighed and looked out the window. It was quite dark. He slid off the chair and decided to make his way to the dining hall. 

 

Wayfarer’s Rest boasted some fine rooms, for though it was mostly a modest place, there was finery to be seen. It appeared as a place might which had once enjoyed wealth and the attention that comes with wealth, then fell into some disrepair, and was now experiencing some resurgence. There was fine wooden carvings, iron mantels and jeweled glass. But mostly there were tattered carpets and scratched furniture…though the servants were plentiful and eager, which meant that they were treated well both humanly and monetarily. 

There were candles all around, illuminating the place. The wind was howling one minute, and still the next. The snow was barely there, but the skies threatened more…for they were grey and the clouds were heavy.

Tyrion wondered if Daenerys would be there already…and his answer was found in her seated at the head of the table, smiling at Lord and Lady Vance as they told her how happy they were that she was there. 

As soon as she saw him, her eyes grew lidded, and she nodded. “Lord Tyion, do, please sit next to me,” and she stood, indicating that he should sit at her right. 

He nodded, swallowed, then took the seat offered to him. “Thank you, Lord Vance, and Lady Vance, for your kind hospitality in allowing us this night here,” and he slid onto the chair. “Wayfarer’s Rest is a most comfortable place.”

“Oh, thank you!” Her Ladyship replied with zeal. “We love it here. Our children are long since gone, so we have set you and Her Majesty in their former quarters, quite apart from the rest of the place,” she smiled. 

Lord Vance drank of his wine as the meal was served. “Our knights have only left this morning. I hope that they arrive at Winterfell in time. I understand that the enemies’ armies are vast and merciless.”

“That is our understanding as well, my Lord,” Dany replied. “Lord Snow,” she paused. “I mean to say, King Snow…he was very specific regarding the urgency with which we must act. Though I doubt we will see the Wall tomorrow…surely the following day will bring us there.”

“Will you not wait at Winterfell?” and Lord Vance took a bite of the chicken.

“The King of the North would rather not see his home destroyed by an army of the undead,” Tyrion interjected. “He had fought a terrible battle to ensure its return to the Stark family. A family, I might add, which has been torn apart and pieced back together. No more misery should be laid upon them.”

“They were torn apart by the Lannister’s,” observed Lord Vance.

“That is quite right, and a shame I live with. All the more reason for me to do everything in my power to ensure that their suffering is minimal,” replied the only Lannister present. And he drank deeply, then helped himself to some potato.

Dany was regarding him with a slight smile. “Now that we have agreed,” she looked at her hosts. “That the Stark family should have the Throne’s support, let us speak no more of the war. I am confident that my dragons will do considerable damage, and the armies of Westeros will do the rest. Might we toast that, and speak of happier things?” she raised a glass, and they all joined her. “To unity!” she said.

“Unity!” they replied.

She sipped, and out of the corner of her eye, looked at her lover, now downing his drink completely. 

…her lover…

She felt giddy at the idea…and then Lord Vance began reminiscing about her father, and then the usurper…and Tyrion made mention of some song that had been sung about the rebellion…but Dany’s thoughts were clouded, and quite specific. She smiled and nodded when appropriate…but her heart demanded that supper be over, so that she might be alone with him.

How odd that she had been so unsure regarding Drogo. So brazen with Daario. And now, so accommodating with Tyrion.

Perhaps she viewed it as more equitable…more like a true partnership…she sighed.

“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Lady Vance asked.

“Oh yes. Yes, I’m fine. Weary, perhaps, from traveling in the cold.”

“Yes…you’ve been in Essos these many years. The climate is different.”

Dany nodded. “For the most part, that’s true. I am much more accustomed to traveling in the heat. The Red Waste was not a place I shall miss,” she sipped her wine.

“Do you miss any of Essos, Your Grace?” she continued.

Dany looked into the fire. “I grew up there. Part of me shall be there always, so yes. I suppose,” she looked at the Lady. “I will miss it. But it was never home, and I felt that.”

“The winter is long,” observed Lord Vance. “It is dark for months…sometimes years…”

“And we shall all survive it together. I know that we have many years of winter ahead, but that does not mean that we need to despair, or give up. There can be some joy to be had in the dark of the season.”

“Our Queen is an optimist, Lord and Lady Vance. Thank the gods for that,” Tyrion smiled.

 

They continued on in an leisurely manner until past midnight…for they retired to a smallish room with comfortable chairs and a roaring fire. 

Dany finally rose from her seat. “Thank you for hosting us, but His Lordship and I have a long day of travel tomorrow. We must rest for it,” she smiled and nodded to them both, then gazed at Tyrion for a prolonged second, and turning, left the room.

“Well,” said Tyrion, standing. “Her Majesty certainly knows best. Good night, My Lady, My Lord. I trust I shall see you in the morning?”

They stood. “Yes…” replied Lord Vance. “We will certainly see you off.”

He bowed and left the room…

His heart was beating quite fast and his palms were sweaty. He wasn't sure if he was nervous or just filled with excitement…

Likely both.

 

Dany was standing in front of her hearth, the fire had dwindled somewhat since her maid had lit it just after she went to dinner…so she bent and threw another log onto the fire. 

She was feeling simultaneously thrilled at the prospect of finally spending the night with Tyrion as her lover, and dreading the prospect of war and the possibility of his death. Or hers…

Her dream still haunted her…

She closed her eyes…

She had fallen from Drogon, something she had not foreseen…and she was staring up into the sky, the ground beneath her was wet with the spilled blood of the Northern armies. She ached all over, yet despite this, she yearned only to see Tyrion…

Dany sat up, her back felt broken, though she knew that to be impossible…she would not be able to move…

Where was he? She had told him not to leave her side…

“Your Grace?” it was some soldier…

“Where is Lord Tyion?” she asked as he helped her up.

“Just there…” 

But when she looked, no one was there. 

“He was there…he had landed just next to you after you fell…”

Dany looked around…

…and there…there, in the snow, she saw him, blood all around…

She ran to him, “Tyrion! No…” she attempted to stopper his blood letting with her hands…”Help!” she cried. “Somebody help me!”

And just then, his eyes opened…

Crystal blue and unseeing…

There was a knock at her door, and her own eyes flew open. She turned, “Come in.”

Tyrion Lannister opened the door, and closed it behind him.

“Turn the lock,” she said.

He did, and swallowed. He turned once more toward her and approached her. “I suddenly realized, on my way here, that I hadn’t the faintest idea where your rooms were, so I needed to stop and ask a hand maid,” he paused as he reached her. “I can report that she did not appear to be at all flummoxed or otherwise suspicious of my inquiry,” he breathed.

Dany held his gaze, and nodded. 

He shifted his weight. 

Her sudden need to take control of the situation overcame her, and she turned and went to the bed. Dany shrugged off her night clothes, and stood there naked. She climbed into the bed. “Take off your clothes,” she told him.

His mouth was slightly open…but he obeyed. He went to the bed and began to take off his clothing.

Dany watched him intently, and pulled her knees up to her chin. 

He didn’t look at her once he was completely naked…

She held her hand out to him. He took it. And climbed into the bed, and sat next to her.

“Are you nervous?” she asked him softly.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“So am I,” she smiled.

He looked at her now, a bemused look on his face. 

“Do you want this?” she asked him.

He swallowed. “More than anything.”

“Then kiss me,” she breathed…

Tyrion leaned over and took her mouth in his…Dany ran her hand through his hair…his hand trailed down to her breasts, and he took one, massaging it softly. He leaned into her, and she sunk into the pillows. He trailed kisses down her torso, taking a nipple in his mouth, down further…

Dany’s back arched and she moaned a bit…he found her sex, and caressed her there, savoring her…

She sat up, and kissed him, turning him onto his back. She placed her hands on his chest, and mounted him…

In he slid, and she began to move…his head went back, for he thought he might come undone there and then…she was quite adept at her rhythm…and he pushed deeper inside of her…

She quickened her pace…he sat up, pulling himself between her breasts, deep as he could go…and he thought he could not take much more…”Daenerys,” he said, “I cannot…”

And she gasped…clawing at his shoulders…he followed…

She took him to the bed with her, her legs in a wrap around him. “I love you,” she said into the side of his face. 

He kissed her forehead. “And I love you.”

She pulled away a touch. “I cannot have children,” she said the matter of factly…as though she suddenly remembered.

His brow creased. “You can’t?”

“No. Does that matter to you?”

He touched her hair. “I never wanted them. Who would want bring a child into this world?”

“I thought that I did,” her gaze fell. “But…then I had my babies.”

“Your dragons.”

She nodded. 

“Why are we speaking of children, Dany?”

“Because I mean to make you my King.”


	20. Chapter 20

"You disapprove?” she asked coyly, a smirk painted on her face.

“I…” he cleared his throat and looked away. This, he did not see coming. This, he had discussed as impossible on numerous occasions to various people. How could she marry him? A Lannister…an imp. “Your Majesty, as your Hand, I really must advise you against such an alliance. There would be no advantage to marrying a person of my house, and marriage, especially when a Queen is the seated monarch, must be done strategically.”

Dany propped herself up on her elbow. “You are advising me to not marry you? Do you or do you not love me?”

“Of course I do, but I’m also your Hand, and …” his face held unvoiced sorrow.

“Stop,” she sat up fully, pulling the blanket up around her. “I shall appoint another Hand while you become my husband and King.”

He shook his head. “Please, my Lady. Rethink this. My name is poison. I’m but an imp…a monster…”

“You are the man whom I love and trust with my life. There is nothing else I need to know.”

He sighed. Is this not what he had always wanted? Someone who loved him despite his appearance? Despite his lineage? Did he not think countless times that his lot in life could be bearable if someone loved him as he was? 

“You hesitate,” Dany observed. “You require time,” she looked away. “I can of course, give you that time. I was prepared to wait much longer for any declaration. I can wait for this as well,” she played with the blanket a bit…”I have made you uncomfortable, which is what I promised not to do,” she looked at him, leaned over, and kissed him softly. “I’m sorry,” she laid back down next to him, nuzzled up beside him, and placed her head on his shoulder. 

Tyrion laid back into the pillow, exhausted, and determined not to say another word. That night he would sleep next to her, tomorrow they flew to Winterfell. 

And then, beyond…

 

The air was cold, very. Growing colder by the minute…

His face was pressed against Viserion’s back…scaly, pounding muscles were felt on his cheek. Tyrion couldn’t lift his head if he tried. It was brutal, this endless ice. 

He thought about the night previous repeatedly in his mind. What would his father have said to this unexpected turn of events? He almost laughed. Not only was he, quite literally, in bed with the enemy, but he was offered a kingship. He! The embarrassment to the family! 

But this was not about his father, nor the Lannister name. This was about Daenerys, and her love for him, which, he presumed, must be great. He could never have imagined himself to be in such a position…

Tyrion swallowed. It was difficult for him to believe that this was real…over and over he chastised himself for allowing himself to believe…

And after what must have been eight hours in flight, he felt the dragon begin to descend. He gingerly moved his head so that he could look to his left, and there was Rhaegal, the supplies strapped to his back, his nose pointed toward the ground. 

The ground shook with the dragons hitting it…and Tyrion felt as though his skull shook with the movement. He sat up and looked around. 

They were on a bank of nearly frozen water. There were low hanging trees around, covered with frost and there was snow falling softly. It was still and quiet.

“Why have we stopped?” he slid off of Viserion’s back.

“They need some water, and if we go much further, everything will be frozen,” Dany was already on the ground, pulling her cloak close. “And I’m tired. I need to stop for a moment,” she went to Rhaegal and pulled off a pack containing food.

“They breathe fire, Daenerys. I’m fairly certain they could melt any frozen lake,” he smiled.

She returned the smile. “I, also, require a rest,” she took out some bread from the pack and sat on a stone near the water where Drogon and Rhaegal were vying for a spot to drink. Viserion was on the opposite shore drinking his fill. “Even your dragon is smart,” she observed. “Look how the other two are arguing over the water.”

Tyrion sat next to her and took some bread. “Are you apprehensive about arriving at Winterfell?”

“Lord Vance’s information suggested that the Starks would be arriving this morning. We are hours behind them.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

She looked at him. “I know what you meant.”

“Well?”

“I am not afraid of the battle,” and she drank some wine.

Tyrion looked out at Viserion…at the frozen water…at the woods laden with snow. They were only about an hour south of Winterfell by the horse. “Not so very long ago, I wanted to see the Wall and piss on the other side. I wanted to see what our ancestors built to keep the Wildlings away, or perhaps, keep us in. I wanted to understand and marvel at the structure. To be amazed,” and he took the flask from Daenerys and drank. “I thought that I’d never be more astounded by what I saw. I was wrong,” he handed her back the wine. “I was never afraid. I’ve lived a longer life than anyone believed to be possible. And I never had anything worth living for,” he paused and looked at her. “Until now. Now, I am concerned that I may perish…I worry that I’ll never feel your lips against mine again…” he smiled softly. “That would be the greatest tragedy I could suffer.”

Dany was looking steadily at him. “I won’t let you die.”

“You may not have the choice.”

And her gaze fell. “I dislike this conversation.”

He smirked and touched her chin, pulling her face toward him. “Then let us remain silent,” and he claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply. 

The world was soft then, white and calm…and they kissed one another with gentle passion, with knowledge that it might be one of their final embraces.

He pulled away first, and sighed. “We should be off. We will be at Winterfell within the hour.”

Dany nodded. She stood, called the dragons back, and mounted Drogon…

Her hood was wrapped tight around her head, but the frozen air was relentless in its bite. And she thought about the situation she had found herself in…

What a selfish creature she was! She thought only of herself. She demanded that he confess his love for her, then demanded that he accept her offer of marriage. She had no regard for his concerns, his apprehension…his position in Westeros…

But she could make Jaime Lord of the Kingsgaurd once more! She would pardon him. She would create a feeling of acceptance for the Lannister brothers in Westeros. She could make everything better.

And they would rule as no one heretofore had…his brains. Her sense. It was a match the gods saw to.

But Tyrion did not see it the same way.

He saw himself as a liability. He saw himself as a monster. As unworthy of her affection.

The list went on…

Dany could see the circular towers of Winterfell rising over the hills…

She slowed Drogon with a soft command, and he began to descend to the ground. There were troops already camped out on the snow, fires blazing in the centers of the camps.

The trio of monsters fell to the ground with a soft thud and Dany immediately assumed her demeanor as Queen. It had begun to startle her, just how easily she slipped into the role…as though she had always been the Queen…merely a dormant one.

Dany walked with some purpose to the giant wooden door which was immediately opened for her and Tyrion. 

The ground was a mixture of white and brown, but frozen all the same. 

A few of the guardsmen bowed, and Jon Snow, the King of the North, came out to greet them. “We had arrived this morning from King’s Landing, Your Grace,” and he bowed. “Word is that other southern houses are on their way.”

“That’s right,” Tyrion replied. “Nearly all are. Have you any idea how long the Wall has before it is breached?”

“I don’t,” Jon said. “I don’t know if it can be…I only know that the Night’s Armies are advancing quickly, and that the Night’s Watch has already begun to fight. The whites are unable to climb the Wall…but it won’t be long before the Night King will be at the base.”

“We can ride up in the morning,” Dany said, following Jon into Winterfell’s great hall. “Tyrion and I will wait with the Watch until night when they advance, and the dragons will burn them all.”

They all reached the table as she said this, and they paused, recalling her father’s very words…Dany swallowed.

Tyrion looked away from the Queen, and considered Jon Snow a moment before sitting down. “Tell me, my Lord. Had there ever been any report of whites in the southern countries?”

Jon sat, and Sansa came in, sitting next to her brother at the table. She nodded to the cup bearer to bring wine, since she knew of Tyrion’s love of it, and rather thought that they all could use some. Jon smiled as she sat, and this did not go unnoticed by either Daenerys nor Tyrion. “No, I can't say that I ever have. Why?”

The wine was poured out, and they all sipped. Dany was glad to have some…she misliked the recollection of her father’s darkest hour. It pained her even more that she said that phrase, and made everyone present aware of her blood and the madness in it. 

“I had a curious experience while visiting our smith in King’s Landing a few days back,” Tyrion began. “He said that there were stores of obsidian in the catacombs which also housed the wildfyre,” he sipped his wine. “Why do you suppose there was obsidian? Was there any other purpose besides the killing of Wights it was used for?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Jon said. 

Sansa’s countenance held a look of doubt. “You think that there was a threat of Wights mere decades ago?”

“Well…no…” Tyrion sipped more, then had more wine poured. “But I think that Aerys may have received some intelligence to that effect, which somehow drove him mad.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Jon Snow protested. “No one believed that the Wights existed. No one thought that they were real, until now.”

This was true…and Tyrion paused. Somehow Aerys was made aware of the existence, but perhaps did not tell anyone that he knew of them…or perhaps no one would believe him, and that was what fueled his madness. “Well, at any rate, there should be reinforcements from the Vale this evening. My brother is on his way even as we speak.”

Jon shifted a bit…there was no love lost between that particular Lannister and himself, and Tyrion knew it. 

Dany, who had been silent at the table, then cleared her throat. “I am overtired, Lord Snow. Is there someone who can direct me to my rooms?”

“Of course,” and he stood, nodding to one of the men. “Take Her Grace to the rooms which have been prepared for her.”

“I’ll need Lord Tyrion as well,” she said without looking at anyone. “We need to review some of the measures…”

Sansa looked at Tyrion, and he smiled at her. “As you wish,” and he slid off his chair and followed behind Daenerys. 

They reached a large wooden door and the hand opened it for them. Dany walked inside, her things already there. “Close the door, please.”

Tyrion nodded to the hand, who clicked the door closed. “What ails my Queen?”

She slumped into the chair by the roaring fire. “I fear that I may have overestimated myself.”

“How?” and he sat on the chair across from her. 

“I have not wavered, not once, since ascending to the throne in Meereen. I have listened to my counselors, I have made informed decisions. I have tried to be as good a ruler as I can be,” she looked at him.

“But?” his brow furrowed.

“But the specter of my family clouds much. I am trying, Tyrion. I’m trying to overcome and do some good…”

“What is your concern?”

“I’ll end up as Aerys.”

Tyrion sat back in his chair. He looked at the fire. “Jon Snow is in love with his sister.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I see it. The way he looks at her,” the fire played murder with the wood.

“And does Sansa reciprocate?” she recalled how she had observed Sansa’s reaction to the King of the North a few days ago as they mounted their horses for Winterfell.

Tyrion looked at Daenerys…the woman whom he loved without limit. “I believe so. She is reticent…she has learned to be so. Living as she did in King’s Landing…it would make anyone…”

“You care for her.”

“Of course I do. So many people have…abused her. I would be heartless to not care.”

“And what of incest, Tyrion? What did we decide at the Small Council?”

“Did we decide on anything?” he smiled.

“No. I don’t believe we did,” there was much laced in that statement. 

It was not lost on Tyrion. “We should decide.”

“Love should not be hindered,” she offered decidedly.

“Even between siblings?” his brow arched in question.

“That, coming from a Lannister, is laden with meaning.”

He laughed. “But perhaps we are overeager. Perhaps Sansa does not feel the way Jon Snow does.”

Dany swallowed. She now looked away. “We should prepare for dinner and then get some rest. We ride for the Wall tomorrow night.”

“She loves him, Daenerys. But she has her doubts.”

She stood. “As is always the case, I imagine, when love is felt,” she went to her bag and began to unpack her dinner gown she wore the previous night in Wayfarer’s Rest.

“I’ll see you there,” and he stood, and walked to the door. He did not know if she was angry at his delaying his answer to her proposal, or if she was merely worried about the war.

Likely both.

Tyrion left and closed the door.

“It’s good to see you so in love, my Lord,” Sansa Stark was standing in front of him, a wide smile spread across her face.


	21. Chapter 21

Tyrion smiled and cleared his throat. “You appear quite well, Lady Sansa.’”

She nodded. “You’re avoiding it,” and she began to walk with him.

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Don’t play, Tyrion. We were married, you know,” they rounded a corner.

“I recall it perfectly.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Oh, come now,” she laughed. “Is the Queen also in love? She appears to be.”

“Does she?”

“I think so.”

Tyrion looked at her. “Well, you would know, I imagine.”

Without knowing exactly where he was going, he found himself in a darkened room with many chairs and a small table by an arched window. Sansa sat at one of the chairs and beckoned him over. “Would you like some wine, my Lord?”

“Always,” and Sansa nodded to the hand, who poured wine for the both of them, then left the carafe with them on the table.

Sansa sipped. “What do you mean, ‘I would know?’ I have not yet found love.”

“No?” and he took a long draught of wine. “I’d say…otherwise.”

She looked at him. “Would you?”

“Well, it appears to me that the King of the North is quite smitten with you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It probably matters to him.”

Sansa sat back. “He’s my brother.”

Tyrion shrugged. “I’m an imp.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I mean to say, we cannot control who we love,” Tyrion said, pouring more wine.

“So, the Queen loves you,” she smiled. “I see it in the way she looks at you.”

“As I see the way Jon looks at you.”

Sansa blushed. “We are brother and sister, my Lord. It cannot be.”

And he looked at her with a mix of pity and amusement. “Oh, Sansa. Do you not know who you are speaking to? My siblings parented three children together.”

She looked out of the window. “I shall never forget the kindness you showed me. That is why I came searching for you…I wanted you to know that I am happy for you. You deserve to have love.”

Tyrion wasn't looking at her…he was playing with his cup. “She has asked me to be her King.”

Sansa’s eyes snapped to his.

He downed his drink. “I have not answered her.”

“You must! You would be a just ruler.”

“I have no claim…Westeros hates me, mostly.”

Sansa took his hand. “The North won’t hate you. Jon will support it…I’ll make sure he will.”

“Support what?” Jon Snow was suddenly in hall with them.

Sansa dropped Tyrion’s hand. “I…” and she looked at Tyrion, who gave her a look to communicate silence. “The plans. For the Wall.”

“What plans?” he walked toward them.

“Nothing, Lord Snow,” Tyrion stood. “Nothing new, really. Is supper soon? I’m famished,” and he left them there, walking toward the dining hall. 

 

That night, as the four ate, one by one commanders arrived from the South. They came announcing how many men there were stationed, asking for wood and blankets, some food. The kitchens at Winterfell were ablaze with food preparation and fire. 

It was long since dark when Samwell Tarly arrived in a pant. There had been so many seeking audience with the Lord and Lady of Winterfell that it took Jon Snow a moment to recognize that the large man lumbering up to the foursome sitting in front of the fire was his dear friend Sam.

“By the gods, Sam!” he stood, going to him, and embracing him. “How is it that you are come?”

“Jon Snow…” he breathed…”I…” he looked at the others sitting there, Daenerys, Tyrion, and Sansa. “I’m sorry. You’ve got comp’ny.”

“Sam…” Jon turned to them. “This is Her Majesty, Queen Daenerys Targaryen. That’s Tyrion Lannister, her Hand,” he smiled at Sansa. “And my sister, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell.”

Sam nodded at them all. “Pleased to meet ya.”

“War is upon us, Sam. The armies of Westeros are all here to fight the Night’s Army.”

“That’s good,” Sam seemed distracted. “But I have news. Well, a kind of news. Mind if I sit here?” and he took a chair and pulled it into the circle…

“No,” Jon had a worried look about him. “Are Gilly and Little Sam all right?”

“Oh, yes. Yes…it’s not them. They are out there,” he nodded to the door. “Warm by the fires,” he smiled. “It’s about your brother, Bran.”

Jon’s mouth fell. “Bran’s dead. He has to be…” he looked at Sansa. 

She swallowed. “We never had any word from anyone about Bran.”

“I don’t know if he’s dead, Jon. But…this is going to sound so bizarre…” he smiled and bowed his head.

“My dear fellow. We are on the cusp of fighting undead armies. That should be bizarre enough for anyone,” Tyrion offered.

Sam looked at Tyrion. “But what I’m about to say…it’s all conjecture, mind…” he looked around. “I think that Bran is alive, and is on the other side of the Wall.”

“What? What do you know?” Jon was agitated.

“I suppose I should tell you…there have been a lot of Brandon Starks in the history of Westeros. I don’t know if you all knew that,” he looked at the company. “Well, there are. But I think…” he rubbed the palms of his hands on his pants. “I think that they’re all the same Brandon. Your brother.”

“But that’s impossible,” Sansa objected, chuckling a touch and looking at Jon.

“It certainly seems like it is. But I’ve read about the Mad King,” he side eyed Daenerys. “Your father, My Lady, I believe?”

Dany nodded.

“He was recorded as saying this,” and Sam took out a few pieces of paper, and unfolding them, read, “Aerys had another one of his fits. We tried to subdue him, calm him with milk of the poppy…he kept crying, “Bran told me…Bran said so…BURN THEM ALL.”

“But that doesn’t mean…” Sansa interrupted.

“I know. But then there’s this. ‘Bran the Builder, the legendary first King of Winter and builder of Winterfell and the Wall’,” Sam looked at them. “He built the Wall,” he continued.   
“Brandon Stark, the Breaker, the king who defeated the Night's King. Brandon Stark, a king known as Brandon the Burner who burned the northern ships. Brandon Stark, a king known as Brandon Ice Eyes who defeated slavers…” he looked up. “And that’s just the beginning. There are at least a dozen more Brandon Starks in the pages at the citadel.”

“But that doesn’t mean anything, Sam,” Jon said, exasperated. “It’s a family name.”

“That’s what I thought. Then I found this…” he handed Jon one of the pieces of paper.

Jon was looking at him with some apprehension, but took the paper. He read, “The Three-Eyed Raven has the little known ability to see into the past, to travel the present, and see the future. In rare cases, the Raven had been reported to influence time.”

“That,” Sam began. “Is when I started to really think about what I was reading.”

“I still don’t…” Jon’s brow was furrowed.

“You think that Bran went beyond the Wall, met the Three Eyed Raven, and has been inadvertently influencing events in Westeros?” Tyrion interrupted. “That may be even more insane than undead armies.”

“That’s exactly what I think. I think,” Sam continued. “That Bran Stark has been trying to avoid this moment, when the Night’s King breaches the Wall, for…” he paused. “Well, forever.”

Dany stood. “He caused my father to go mad?”

“I mean…” Sam swallowed. “I’d say he was trying to warn him.”

“That explains the obsidian,” said Tyrion.

Her chin lifted. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied with a shrug. “I’m guessing he’s on the other side of the Wall still.”

“This is madness, Sam,” Jon whispered.

“It’s all madness,” Sansa choked. “Why not this, too? Why should this not be possible, when so many other impossible things are?”

“But listen to what he is saying, Sansa. He’s saying that Bran…our brother, Bran, is messing with time. He’s traveling…”

Sansa took his hand. “If he’s right, Jon, we have to get to him. We have to find him beyond the Wall.”

Jon searched her face. “Beyond the Wall is death. There is nothing there but death.”

“I will go,” came Dany’s voice.

Tyrion stood. “Did you just hear Lord Snow? ‘There is nothing there but death.’ We fight the whites from the top of the Wall, just as was discussed.”

“No,” she turned toward him. “If these armies are truly the greatest threat to Westeros, my kingdom, then I need to find them and end them,” she looked at Jon. “And I will try to find your brother.”

“You needn’t bother, Your Grace, as I will be traveling to the Wall with you tomorrow, and I will go on the other side as well.”

“I’m going too,” Sansa said.

“You’re not,” Jon stated decisively.

“I am. I’m not going to just wait here,” she motioned with her arm. “What if Bran is there? I want to see him.”

“I’ll bring him back.”

“What if you can’t?” she was sad in her query.

“Let’s all go then,” Tyrion said, clapping his hands together. “Why not rid Westeros of all of her tiresome leaders?”

“I’ll drink to that,” came a voice entering the room. Jaime Lannister strode in, a smirk on his face. “Your Majesties,” he bowed to Jon and Daenerys. “The whole of the Lannister forces await your command.”

Dany stepped forward. “Tomorrow night you ride to the Wall. The entire mass of fighters out there are under your command. I am riding ahead with my dragons, Lord Tyrion, and perhaps Lord Snow and Lady Stark. The dragons will eliminate the first waves of whites. It will be up to you to see to any Wights who somehow get over, or the smaller whites, until we return from beyond the Wall.”

Jaime nodded. “Is that wine?”

Tyrion quickly poured his brother some and handed it to him. “It is good to see you.”

He sipped. “I think you’re the only one…the Stark siblings don’t appear to be pleased.”

Both Jon and Sansa were eying Jaime with some disdain. 

Tyrion smiled. “Well, I am happy you are here.”

“If there’s nothing else,” Sam stood. 

“No, Sam. Get Gilly and little Sam. You all will sleep here tonight,” Jon snapped out of it. He nodded to one of the hand maids to prepare more rooms. 

“That’s very of of ya, Jon, but I don’t want…”

“Shut up,” Jon said. “Go get yer family,” he nodded with a smile.

Sam nodded and left the room.

“I should be going, too. I promised the men I’d be back,” Jaime finished his wine. “And it looks as though I was interrupting something,” he nodded.

“I’ll visit in the morning, Jaime,” said Tyrion. “We can go over the plans. It shouldn't be more than a couple of days.”

“I hope not. It’s fucking freezing and I want nothing more than a warm fire,” he turned and left the room.

Tyrion sighed. “I think that should be the last of the commanders.”

“Do you all honestly believe what Sam was saying?” Jon stood behind his chair, his hands gripping the back.

“I’ve heard stranger things,” Tyrion replied, pouring himself more wine. “Though admittedly, that is among the more strange.”

Jon Snow looked at the ladies. “Well? What do you think?”

“I believe it,” Sansa said. 

“I want to find Brandon,” Dany began. “That’s the only way to discover the truth.”

“Spoken like a true Queen,” Tyrion nodded to her. “But I am tired, and there is a long and arduous day ahead for us all,” he drank the rest of his wine and smiled.

Dany watched him closely as he left the room. “Well,” she smiled at the Stark siblings. “I had better follow my Hand’s lead. Good night…” Dany turned and left Jon and Sansa smiling at one another. Dany reached her room and found Tyrion standing in front of the fire. She sighed relief…she thought that perhaps he would seek another room. She went over to him and sat at his feet. “I’m glad you are here.”

“How could I be anywhere else?”

Her gaze fell to her lap as she felt him sit beside her. Dany leaned against him. “Tomorrow.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair, and she closed her eyes. “Tomorrow, but we have this night,” he said, and kissed her softly, but growing in passion, and they made love in front of the fire.


	22. Chapter 22

There was no landscape…the place was barren and white.

The air was frigid and unrelenting…she walked softly over the snow, not knowing where she was nor where she was going.

She was frightened…her heart pounded in her chest relentlessly.

As she made her way to through the icy mist, she saw a figure beyond. It loomed and was imposing.

Dany swallowed, and kept walking. She would not back away from her fear.

And she saw his face…white hair, crystal blue eyes…

He looked at her. 

“Bran Stark.”

Dany’s eyes flew open and she sat up. She was in her rooms at Winterfell, and Tyrion was asleep next to her.

She got up and wrapped herself in a thick robe, for the chill was seeping through the cracks in the walls…through the floorboards…and she wondered, if they were successful, they would need to think of ways to reinforce structures against years of freezing cold.

Dany went to the window and peered out.

The world was glowing a sick grey. It was dawn, and the sun was trying to poke through the impossible cloud cover. 

She sighed. 

Dany thought about everything that had happened over the course of the past month, and wondered at the whole of it.

She was Queen of Westeros. She was in love. She may have discovered the source of her father’s madness. And she was about to fight an army of undead…and impossible battle. 

Perhaps this would all be over in a day or two and she could see to ruling over this winter, and, if the gods were good, she would marry Tyrion. 

It was so beyond her mind how much she loved him. How much she felt, in a relatively small amount of time. She loved him as though they were already married, for she trusted him implicitly, and he truly felt part of her. She could not imagine her life without him now…

Her chin lifted as she closed the curtain against the chill. 

She would not do without him. If he perished…

Well. She would see that he didn’t.

“What are your thinking of, Daenerys?” Tyrion was sitting, his back against the headboard.

She smiled at him and went over to the bed, sitting on the edge. She took his hand. “I love you,” she replied…her eyes fixed on their joined fingers.

He squeezed her hand. 

She shook her head, swallowed, and dropped his hand; she wrapped her arms around herself, and looked away. She was fighting tears…”I wish that we could have a child.”

His face was lined with concern for her…”Perhaps we ought to concentrate on the problem at hand, that is, fighting and defeating the Night’s Army,” he said softly.

“I know. But that is all I think of. I want to think of another sorrow for a moment,” she now looked at him sadly, but with a very soft smile. 

Tyrion cleared his throat. He would play along and placate her. “What would you name such a child?”

Dany pulled herself next to him on the bed, as he moved over to accommodate her. “Well…Rhaella Joanna if a girl…Jaime Rhaegar if a boy.”

His eyes welled. “Those are excellent names.”

“Our mothers and brothers,” she smiled.

He played with the blanket. “You are too generous.”

“I’m not. Jaime loves you, and you love him. And though he killed the King, I truly believe that he did it to protect many people,” she looked at him closely. “I like Jaime, despite myself.”

“It’s a shame those children will never hear the stories behind their names.”

Dany looked away. “It is.”

“But, they would have the Lannister name as well. Perhaps it is for the best.”

She smirked. “They could carry my family name, you know.”

“What?” his eyes slanted.

“Well, Targaryen is the seated monarch’s name. They would be the prince or princess…”

“Are you willing to compromise my manly right to my own children inheriting their father’s name? Any proud Lannister would be appalled at such a proposition.”

“Do you think a name makes the man?” she smirked at him.  
He swallowed, as her eyes grew heavy and laden with want. “Since you put it that way…”

“As I suspected…” she smiled, and leaned over to kiss him, caressing his groin with her hand.

 

The wind was fiercely howling through the hills as the company stood with the dragons.

“Will they be all right?” Sansa yelled through the din. “They have no fur to protect them.”

“I’m certain that they will be,” Dany replied loudly. The dragons had had some furs wrapped around them. It was believed that once they breathed their fire, they would warm as well…  
But Dany remained unconvinced. She thought that it was a gamble, but one that needed to be taken. “You’ll be following us with a small troop of reinforcements?” she said to Jon Snow.

He nodded. “We will be there in a few hours.”

She went to Tyrion. “Do not leave my side unless you are on Viserion’s back, do you understand?”

He nodded. He appreciated her concern, but rather felt like she was treating him like a child. He had been in battles before, after all.

He thought about his meeting with Jaime an hour ago…  
“So, you are blissfully happy,” he said, not unkindly.

“I am, yes.”

“And the Queen is mad about you,” Jaime sat back. The tent was freezing, and he was sipping on something warm.

“So it would seem.”

“Will she make you King?”

“She has mentioned it.”

And Jaime laughed. “What a sense of humor the world has.”

Tyrion laughed as well. It was comical, the whole of it. 

“What if you die today?” and he finished his drink.

“I love how everyone thinks I cannot fight. Blackwater was won by me, you know.”

“Does Her Majesty fear for you?”

“She seems to be overly concerned.”

Jaime nodded. “She has you on a leash, brother.”

He swallowed…

And it was that which he thought of as she commanded him to stay near to her.

Tyrion bowed, then went to Viserion and climbed on his back…they took flight before Dany was even close to Drogon.

She nodded to the Starks. “Until later, then,” and she called to Rhaegal as she climbed atop Drogon, commanding them to fly.

It wasn’t long before she saw light below from burning fires. She looked ahead of her and saw Tyrion descending. He had impressively progressed with ease.

They landed at the bottom of the Wall…and she looked up at it. Dany had heard of its majesty…but did not fully grasp its enormity until she was standing, so small, at its base. “Bran Stark oversaw the building of this?” her words materialized into mist before her. 

“If Tarly is to believed,” Tyrion pulled his coat closer. 

“My Lord and Lady,” a man’s voice came from next to them, and he bowed. 

“She is your Queen, my man,” Tyrion said.

“Apologies, Your Grace,” he looked at Dany. “I wasn't certain if Lady Stark would be here first.”

“No need to apologize. Can we go inside where it’s warm?” 

And he led them and the dragons inside Castle Black. 

It was sparse in comparison with what Dany was accustomed to, but, she supposed, it did its job. With any luck, the post would be abandoned soon enough. She walked to the dining hall, fairly small in space, but there were fires lit. “How many of you are there?”

“We’ve lost quite a few, Your Grace. And we must burn the bodies now.”

“What do you mean, ‘now’?” asked Tyrion as he sat.

“Now,” the man sat next to him. “Now that the magic beyond the Wall is finding its way here.”

“What is your name?” Dany asked.

“Commander Pyke,” he nodded. 

“And, Commander, how many men have perished here since the attacks began?”

“Well,” he poured some hot liquid into three mugs and handed them round. “Close to fifty. The attacks began not three weeks ago. But they grow ever more severe, and I’d say the Night King is less than a day’s march away.”

Dany looked at Tyrion. “The forces of Westeros are at the doorstep. They should arrive at almost the same time as the Wights.”

“I hope so, Your Majesty,” Pyke said. “We are in much danger.”

“When you speak of the magic, what kept it at bay before?” Tyrion asked as he downed the drink, which warmed him much…

“The Wall, Ser. The Wall herself holds powerful magic.”

“And now it doesn’t?” 

“We aren’t certain. It seems as though the Night’s Armies are aware of something we aren’t. They cannot get over the Wall, but it’s as though something was looking just beyond.”

Dany looked at Tyrion. “What are you thinking?”

“Brandon Stark.”

“Brandon Stark is the reason the Armies can advance?” she asked with doubt.

He shrugged. “Seems reasonable enough, given the theory posed by Tarly.”

“I’m sorry, Ser…” interrupted Pyke. “But you’re saying a Stark boy is on the other side of the Wall, and he is the reason they are attacking?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Tyrion replied, and stood. “Where are we to perch during the battle later?”

Pyke stood also. “Are you coming, Your Grace?”

Dany nodded, deep in thought. Perhaps what needed to happen is she and Tyrion attempt to find Bran atop the dragons…perhaps that way they could halt the advance and cease their invasion of Westeros. 

Though it would mean that she would be leaving him, something she was loathe to do, and something she promised she wouldn’t. His theory was hardly mad, though. In its own way, it made some sense. Bran, somehow, as he had found the Three Eyed Raven, caused a war. Awakened anew the Night’s Armies. 

Dany walked behind them, not really listening to what they were saying. She did not know what Bran looked like…Tyrion did. Jon Snow and Sansa did…”What does Brandon Stark look like?” she asked Tyrion.

“He’s crippled,” he replied.

“I’m sorry?”

“He cannot walk,” and he stopped, looking at Daenerys. “Why?”

“He can’t walk, yet he’s traveled beyond the Wall?” she asked with doubt.

“I cannot explain it, but I saw the lad with my own eyes some time ago. The Lannister’s were at Winterfell when Bran …well. Fell, and lost movement in his legs.”

Her mouth hung open. “If he’s still unable to walk, then it shouldn't be difficult to find him,” and she walked passed them both. “Commander Pyke, I’d like a word with Lord Tyrion.”

Pyke bowed and left them in the hall which led to the battlements. 

“I’m going to leave immediately and look for Bran Stark. You stay here and have Viserion and Rhaegal destroy the whites.”

“You are going…?”

“Yes. Stay and move forward with the plan. Wait for Jon Snow to arrive…I’ll be back before long. If Commander Pyke is to be believed, the Wights are but a few hours by dragon away.”

“Well, this is fine. It’s all right for you to put yourself in imminent danger, but for me, a seasoned fighter…”

Dany rolled her eyes. “What would you prefer?”

“I’ll look for Bran. He knows me. You stay here and set fire to some animated corpses.”

Her chin rose in defiance. “That is not acceptable.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

She sighed and turned away. 

“What’s more,” Tyrion continued, “What about the Wights? What if we are confronted with them? We have no obsidian to fight them.”

“We will ride together. Rhaegal will stay behind.”“He has no rider.”

Dany looked at him steadily. “Tonight we will stay here and wait for the reinforcements. We will destroy as many whites as we can. Tomorrow we ride for the Wights and to look for Bran, obsidian in hand. Does that suit you?” she smiled.

He was looking at her very steadily. “I adore you.”

And at that moment, the darkness fell…the temperature plummeted some twenty degrees in seconds…and screaming was heard beyond the Wall.

“They’re here,” she said.


	23. Chapter 23

Hairs stood on the back of his neck as he listened to the agony that was those screams. Tyrion straightened his back and nodded to Dany…

Dany, who never backed away nor shied from horror. She smiled at him, bent down, and kissed him. “We will be fine.”

The two closed up their cloaks and went to obtain the dragons. 

Castle Black was already reacting to the sounds of the whites in the distance. The Night Watch was preparing arrows, the fires were being lit…

The two ran to the catacombs below, and found the dragons already moving in an irritated manner. They appeared to be agitated, and Drogon was spitting bits of fire.

Dany went to them, speaking soothingly in High Valyrian, and led them all out. She quickly mounted Drogon, and Tyrion went atop Viserion.   
They flew high…going higher than the Wall, then flying just beyond. 

She looked down and saw erratic whites growling and screaming below them. She was astounded by what she saw…

They were not human…they were mad…screaming at the top of their voices, moving quickly, but clumsily. They were tripping over one another…

They were expendable, she could see. They were not warriors, they were a means to dispose of primary defenses and then add numbers to their army. 

“Dracarys,” she yelled, and dove downward…

The three beasts set fire to the whites, and they screamed, falling over…a few trees were set fire and almost immediately fell. 

She flew further north, and once again set fire to the whites. She looked behind her, and Tyrion was directing Viserion as well, illuminating the winter scape with dragon fire.

It was impossible to cover all the ground the whites were advancing on, but they all did some damage. The Wall was being defended by flaming arrows, and though they weren't destroying the numbers that the dragons were, they were eliminating some of the corpses. 

The dragons hovered overhead, and they, too, seemed to be awestruck by the whites. “Dracarys,” she shouted once more, and they fell, screaming, and it became still, but only for a fraction of a second, for more were on their way.

The air simply crawled with them, and Dany thought that she could use ten more dragons, for then perhaps a dent might be made.

She moved down the Wall, setting fire to them, to a few trees, and looking back at Tyrion. He was following her lead steadily, Rhaegal just behind him. “Let’s get back!” she yelled…she thought that they could set them on the top of the Wall and speak a moment.   
They turned and flew to the top; Dany slid off and rubbed her frozen face. “Are the others here?” 

Pyke nodded. “Just. They are situated outside Castle Black, setting up and readying for battle.”

Dany nodded as Tyrion landed. “Are they planning an advance tonight?”

“I don’t know. They only just arrived…”

“But they will attack all night,” she protested. “Is that not so?”

“Well, depends, really. Some nights they retreat back into the forest.” Dany looked at Tyrion.  
Tyrion, who was standing next to her now. “What do you think?”

“We need time to regroup. The plan was to have the dragons burn the whites…then have the our armies march the following night after the whites had been depleted.”

“But there are so many more than we anticipated,” she looked behind her, her dragons breathing their fires in a storm of heat. 

“I think it’s best to stick to the plan, Your Majesty. The armies need to rest a bit. Sit by the fire. And we need the Night King to get as close to the Wall as possible. We don’t want all of our armies deep in those forests,” he nodded. “Best to keep the battle as close to the Wall as we can.”

She appeared to acquiesce her agreement, though she did not appear to like it much. “I’ll stay here with them,” she looked at her babies. “You greet Jaime and the rest.”

The screams ran through him like ice as he smiled at her. He didn’t like leaving her there, but he knew she was right. 

Tyrion went down the lift, and then to the entrance where King Snow was standing with Sansa. “Her Majesty is above, the whites being eliminated even as we speak. Where are Jaime and Theon?” the Ironborn were displeased with needing to be recruited so quickly following the battle for King’s Landing. 

“They are out with the others, setting the fires and the shelters for the night. I hope we won’t need to stay more than tonight…it’s too cold to have the men out there,” Jon said.

“I don’t see why we should. The battles will be fought during the dark hours, it’ll be over soon enough. Please alert Jaime Lannister to come inside once he has settled the men,” Tyrion shouted at one of the guardsmen. He then smiled at Sansa. “I’m surprised to see you here, my Lady.”

“She wouldn’t listen to me,” Jon appeared to be irritated. “She insisted, because there is a chance we might see Bran.”

“I won’t get into the fray,” Sansa told them. “But I need to be here.”

Jon huffed a bit, then walked away. Sansa watched him leave.

“Stubbornness is a trait that can be both positive and negative,” Tyrion observed. “Come, let’s get you in out of the cold,” he touched her elbow.

“He is a passionate person,” she began, walking alongside Tyrion. “He thinks he knows what’s best…what’s always best. Sometimes he does, but there are times I question him.”

“Because he often acts on emotion,” and they entered the castle. 

“That, but…there’s more. It’s like…there is something else to him. When we left, he was so angry.”

“With you?”

She nodded, and they sat by a fire as she took off her cloak, and Tyrion did the same. “He said that he had lost so much. That if I were to die, he’d have nothing but a pile of stone and a useless title.”

“He cares for you.”

“It’s more…” and Sansa looked at the fire. 

“He’s in love with you.”

Sansa rubbed her forehead with her fingers. She appeared to be overwrought. 

“My Lady?” he was concerned…Sansa was always very strong. “You there! Fetch my Lady some water and wine…” he leaned forward. “Sansa?”

She looked at him. “I’m frightened, Tyrion.”

“Of?”

“Everything,” she swallowed. 

He sat back, stark white…

“There are rooms above…” Jon entered the area they were sitting, then noticed the mood. “What has happened?” he demanded.

Sansa looked at him and smiled. “Nothing.”

Jon looked at Tyrion…”What is going on?”

“We were just discussing the merits of a warm fire and some wine on freezing evenings,” at that, the wine arrived, and the hand gave Sansa some water. 

She nodded and sipped. “Everything is fine.”

Jaime Lannister then arrived. “Well, we are settled in. They are eating, and will rest the next few hours until the Wights arrive.”

Tyrion poured him some wine. “Tell me, Jaime, what you know about King Aerys.”

Jon sat for this, and nodded at the hand to fetch some ale. 

Jaime looked around at them…and sat with his cup. “What do you want to know?”

“When did he begin to lose his mind?”

“Well,” he sat back. “A few years after assuming the Throne, I think.”

“What do you recall him saying, specifically?”

“Burn them all…?” he looked at his brother crookedly.

“He was recorded as saying, Bran told me…do you remember this?”

“No,” he replied decisively.

Tyrion nodded. “What do you know of the obsidian being harvested and made into weapons?”

“Nothing.”

“You never heard anything about it?”

“Not that I can recall…what are you getting at, Tyrion?” Jaime sipped.

“Nothing, maybe. Or, perhaps the key to understating the madness of the slayed King.”

“I don’t understand,” Jaime replied. “What has obsidian to do with his madness?”

“Well…we had a visitor,” Tyrion began, settling back. He did enjoy tale spinning. “At Winterfell. He was in the room, actually, when you arrived.”

“The large fellow?” 

“The very one. He says that he believes that Brandon Stark is with the Three Eyed Raven beyond the Wall, and has been tampering with time.”

Jaime blanched at the mention of Bran. 

Tyrion noted this, then continued. “Apparently, he holds the belief that Bran somehow travelled to see and influence Aerys…warning him of the Night Army. But Aerys, not understanding, went mad from the voice of the boy, and in turn, sought to burn his subjects, not the Wights.”

Jaime’s mouth hung open. 

“What is it?” Tyrion asked.

And then, Daenerys walked into the room. They all stood, and she sat next to Tyrion. “They will be working all night, but I needed some warmth.”

“Your Majesty…” Jaime began. “Tyrion was just telling me about Bran Stark, and the theory surrounding him.”

She paled. “Yes…it sounds mad, doesn’t it?”

“But the pieces fit,” interjected Sansa.

“Only because we are making them,” mumbled Jon.

“I think…” Jaime began. “I think that there might be something to this.”

And everyone looked at Jaime Lannister, Tyrion held rapt, for he knew his brother to be a very rational person, except when it came to Cersei. 

Jaime took a long draught and emptied his cup. “I recall…not long before the Mad Kin…” he paused, and looked at Dany. “Before King Aerys was beyond aid, and his mind appeared to be lost…before the killings began…one night, standing guard at his bedchamber, as had become custom…screaming…and then,” he looked at them all. “He said, ‘But then what can I do?’ He sounded desperate. He then said, ‘I don’t have enough.’ It sounded as though he was speaking with someone. I had always thought that that really marked the beginning of his irreversible madness…that he was beginning to speak with people who weren't there. But now…maybe there was someone there.”

“And you are certain that Rhaella was not there with him?” asked Tyrion.

“Yes. The Queen was away, she was in High Garden on a diplomatic mission.”

Tyrion looked at them all. “Well, there you have it. More circumstantial evidence to prove Samwell Tarly’s hypothesis.”

Dany was quietly sitting there, swallowing. 

Jon stood. “This is all mad. I need to lead an army some eight hours from now. I’m going to speak with the men and get some rest,” he turned and left the room.

Sansa had tears forming, she looked at the remaining few…”It’s difficult for him. He doesn’t want to believe that Bran is alive. He would feel compelled to save him, and with everything else, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Well,” Jaime stood, visibly uncomfortable with Sansa’s speech. “I should follow King Snow’s lead. If there’s nothing else,” he looked at Daenerys.   
She shook her head.

And Jaime bowed, and left as well.

Sansa appeared to be anxious, and she looked at Tyrion and Dany. “I’m sorry I came. But I…I haven’t seen my brother in so very long.”

“No need, Lady Stark,” Dany smiled. “And you want to be here for the King, your brother, as well.”

“How will that work, Your Grace? He, King of the North, you, Queen of the Realm?”  
“As it always has, Sansa. I wish to bring fairness to Westeros, not upend it.”

“So much for breaking the wheel,” Tyrion supplied, sipping wine.

“Excuse me?” Dany looked at him. “Breaking the wheel and commanding fair rule are one in the same.”

He nodded, and held his cup in toast. “As you say.”

Sansa smiled and stood. “Excuse me, Your Grace, but I need to find my room,” she nodded and left them there.

“As I say?” her eyes were daggers flying at him. 

“Precisely. I am in agreement with Your Majesty.”

“And I detect no sarcasm in your tone at all,” she said with feeling.

“Well, truth be known, I had hoped for a bit more breaking, bit less mending, where your rule was concerned.”

“And what would you have me do? A fair and just ruler who just overtook King’s Landing with violence could not inflict more violence and call themselves just.”

He shrugged. “As you say. Dany, this is probably not the time to talk about this, considering we should be killing corpses…a task which makes my brain hurt from the absurdity of it.”

She laughed. “You are right…and we have a few more hours of this before dawn.”

“And then, we march,” he stood, and held out his hand. 

“We march,” she repeated, and took his proffered hand after she pulled her hood up, tying it fast.

They went back up the lift to the perch and watched as the dragons repeatedly burned the screaming corpses…

Tyrion looked over the edge and saw them advancing in their erratic way. He sighed. It would be a long few hours, and with the promise of more fighting immediately before him, he grew wary and, a touch, afraid.

This would all be over soon, and he might not survive it.

But, as he looked at Daenerys, he would die having known inexplicable and unrelenting love.

His life was worth it.


	24. Chapter 24

The room was sparse, much like the rest of Castle Black. 

He sat in his room, his lover breathing softly in the bed behind him. The fire was dwindling, and he couldn’t sleep.

He couldn’t sleep, for never in his life had he been more afraid, because never in his life did he feel as though he had so much to lose.

Tyrion was so in love with Daenerys Targaryen that he was unable to think of anything else, save the life he might never get to live should he perish. 

He drank deeply of his wine, and heard the last of the whites scream outside. They had just returned inside not an hour ago, and were resting for the four hours or so of daylight between attacks.

His head fell back a bit, and he thought about what had transpired when they left their station above…

She did not speak. She merely took her cloak off, some of her outer layers, and went to the table where the wine was sitting. Daenerys poured herself and Tyrion some wine, and sat on the chair by the fire. She drank very deeply…

He stood behind her, and began to massage her shoulders…she leaned against him and sighed. 

“Come, you’re exhausted,” he said to her, and took the empty cup from her hand. 

Daenerys did not argue, but stood, as he led her to the bed.

She climbed into the bed, and he sat next to her as she laid her head on his chest. Tyrion began to stroke her hair, gently brushing it away from her face.

“Tell me a story,” she breathed.

His head then rested against the headboard. “High Garden was always a place of lore for me. I had heard of many magical things…though I had mostly thought of it as a source of wonder due to the fact that the place supplied most of Westeros' food…a feat in and of itself. So it was, when I was young…possibly a bit younger than you are now, that the Lannister’s were invited to High Garden for a Midsummer celebration. I was ecstatic,” he paused. “How old are you?”

“I’m not telling,” he felt her smile against his shoulder. 

“Well, I know that I am older than you are.”

“That’s fair.”

“Much older?”

“No…not that much,” she looked at him. “Continue.”

He cleared his throat and she settled back. “Yes. So, there I was, among the nobles, and I soon realized that many of them were nothing to be impressed of. They were people, like you and I, and they were tedious in their own right. They simpered and they gossiped, and I hid in the shadows.  
One night, just a few days following our arrival, I wandered into the garden very late. I wanted to smell the honeysuckle, and gaze at the stars. I heard people talking to one another, and tried to plan an escape route. As I turned down another path, I ran into a girl. She was not much taller than I was, which was saying something. And she was lovely…long, golden hair, bright eyes, delicate features, and an arresting smile. I begged her pardon, and she shook her head. ‘No need,’ said she. ‘We are all friends here.’ I swallowed. ‘Do you live here?’ ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘But you don’t.’ I replied that no, I didn’t. She proceeded to walk me around the garden, showing me the best vantage points of the sky, the most succulent blooms…it was lovely.  
The next morning, I ran to the garden where I saw her, and found no one. I went every evening, finding it empty.   
A fortnight we stayed, and it was the last evening that I wandered into the kitchens. I thought that perhaps she was a servant, so I asked the cook about the girl.   
‘Ah…’ she said. ‘You must have found Morgana. She is fairy folk.’  
I was unimpressed, and left.   
As the Lannister’s prepared to leave, I approached Lady Olena about the girl, and what the cook told me.   
‘She was lying, wasn't she?’ I asked.  
Lady Olena smiled. ‘You’re smarter than that, little man.’  
It was then that I began to believe in magic.”

“But you don’t, do you?”

“You love me, and you, apart from that, command dragons and survive fire. If that isn't magical, I don't know what is.”

Daenerys fell asleep shortly thereafter…

And Tyrion let her sleep while he stayed watch. He was too overcome with thoughts to properly sleep.

He drank his wine and stared at the dwindling flame. He would not be able to sit there much longer, but then, he thought, he wouldn't need to. Daenerys would be up in another hour or so, and she would want to get moving with the plans.

So he stood and got his mail ready. He would be marching a bit, and fighting in combat. This worried him only a bit, his real concern was staying on task while protecting the Queen.

He also thought that it was ridiculous that he believed that he could aid her in any way. He was no soldier.

Perhaps he should have Jaime follow alongside her.

“Did you not sleep?”

He looked over and saw her sitting up, looking at him.

He smiled. “I’m not tired.”

“Nonsense. You’re worried.”

“That too.”

Dany nodded. “As am I.”

“I’ll protect you.”

She turned and her feet hit the floor. They smarted with the cold…Dany stood and retrieved her wrap, then pulled it close around her. She walked delicately over to the fire. “It’s almost out.”

“Shall I rekindle it?”

Dany nodded.

Tyrion dropped some logs in the hearth, then turned toward her. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want you to fight.”

He sighed…”Daenerys…”

“I know what you’re about to say, and I cannot stop you,” she paused. “Well, I can, but I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

She swallowed. “I need to prepare.”

“You can stay, you know.”

“Well…no. I can’t. I need to command the dragons.”

“I can.”

She looked at him. “Would that I could task another with this. But I won’t risk you, and I want to be by your side throughout the whole of it.”

His face held sorrow. He felt as though fate was being tempted this night…he would not be permitted to be so happy for so long. He was meant to suffer endlessly…  
He nodded, then bowed. “I think that we ought to eat something. I’ll see to it,” and he left.

Dany stood there…she was determined, but so, so afraid…it was unsettling, at the very least. She began to change her clothes in readying for battle. She was methodical, taking each item and laying it out…she ignored the tears which threatened with every movement…she would be strong…

Her hands were shaking.  
She ignored them.

And before long, she was ready to see to eating and addressing the armies.

Dany left the room with a click of the door.

 

They had some stew and brown bread, and learned that the men had all eaten what they could…many were too worried to properly have a meal. The light was dwindling, though it was really barely light at all, the snow falling obscured any glow the sun might have offered.

Dany and Tyrion ate in almost silence, for they had both considered speaking, but then found it to be superficial and insincere. Jon Snow and Sansa were not to be found.

Tyrion thought that perhaps they were comforting one another; he rather hoped that they were, for he believed that there would be loss of life, and they loved one another, it was plain enough to see. 

He looked at Daenerys. She was playing with her stew. “Would you be this way if I was not going with you?”

She looked at him. “Probably not.”

“Well, think of it this way…if I were to get hurt, you’d be there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, since you put it that way, everything is fine.”

He laughed. “It warms my heart that you are so concerned about me, truly.”

“One day, Tyrion Lannister, you will understand the depth of my feeling. I hope that it won’t be too late, and that we might relax on that day, sip sweet wine, make love, and fall asleep in each other’s arms.”

He sighed. “Sounds lovely.”

“Then let us away, so that we might end this, and begin anew,” she stood in her commanding fashion, and turned toward the stairs that led to the courtyard.

There were already many commanders there, including Jon and Jaime. They bowed, their breath frosting in the falling daylight.   
“The obsidian swords are ready?” Dany asked.

“Yes, there are enough for about half of the men,” Jaime said. 

She nodded, hoping that that would be enough. “Good. Then we advance not more than a half a mile into the forest. Drogon and the others will burn a path for the fight…I don’t want men running after the Night Army.”  
“As you said,” Jon nodded. He bowed and turned away…

It was then that Tyrion saw Sansa standing a bit away from them all in a doorway. They appeared to argue a bit, and she seemed angry. She pulled her cloak tighter and stormed off, as Jon hung his head and walked out to the armies he was to aid in commanding. 

He thought about this a moment, and wondered if Sansa might not do something rash…desperation often did cause that inclination in people.

Dany looked at him. “We should go,” and she went to the lift. 

She hoped that her babies weren't too fatigued from the night of killing whites. She would need them now as well. 

They exited the lift and felt the sting of the air on their exposed eyes…they bent their heads and went to the dragons, all huddled behind the barracks. Dany went to each of them, petting them softly, speaking to them as soothingly as she could…

Finally, they stood, and bits of smoke issued from their nostrils. “They’re ready,” she said to Tyrion. 

They climbed atop and took flight, first laying waste to the trees in the immediate area. 

The snow made it difficult for the trees to catch fire and burn wholly, but there was enough space now to have some battles rage. 

Dany flew back to the courtyard. “On!” she yelled, and the darkness fell like a candle being blown out, the temperature with it, and the screams were heard just beyond.

She flew to her dragons once more, and their breath began its grotesque death. 

The whites were a bit less in numbers, she noticed, as the armies advanced below. This made her happy…perhaps after an hour or so, by the time the Wights arrived, there would be little left in terms of these particular creatures. 

The flaming arrows fell below them, and the Westeros armies were fighting, and winning, rather easily. 

She heard the commanders shouting at their men, and when she looked, most were still riding their horses, though a few had gotten down to fight. 

She patted Drogon, knowing that she would need to join them soon. 

Tyrion was not far behind her, and wondering when she would make her move. The Wights were likely not a mile away now…

The screams pierced the forest…there was red all around on the ground below. The fires atop Castle Black were beginning to become not enough to see properly…

And then, just as though something or someone had closed a door, all went silent. Dany hovered just above the trees, and she saw, to her horror, the Night King.

He was riding a horse, monstrous and malformed, with others…perhaps three dozen others, just behind them. He rode his mount with ease and without haste…

He was blue and grey…his hair white and plastered to his head…he was not dressed for the cold, for he was the cold.

Dany felt it, the unmoving frigidity, as he advanced…

He moved until he was in the open…then looked around at them all.

She dove down, and thundered before him on Drogon. Drogon, whose roar split the silence…”Go back,” she said simply.

He smiled at her, and raised a finger. 

Dany retrieved her obsidian sword, and took her stance. “Dracarys!” she yelled…

And the fire emanated from Drogon’s mouth…Viserion and Rhaegal spat their breath…

Nothing.

The Wights advanced slowly toward them all, and Jaime and Jon Snow yelled their orders to the armies. 

Clashing of armor was heard, moans and screams…

And Dany was then fighting the Wights, the obsidian sword having already killed two…

“Burn the bodies!” she screamed at them…she did not want to create more whites out of carelessness…it was part of the plan, but she wanted to remind them all that there was little time to waste.

She turned toward Drogon, “Skoros morghot vestri?” she whispered, and climbed on his back…and hovered just above, readying for more whites.

Dany looked for Tyrion, who had just dismounted Viserion, and was running, obsidian in hand…

…and then a yell…

Not from him…it was a woman’s yell…

Just below, Sansa Stark was running directly for the Night King.

“Sansa!” Dany yelled…what was she doing?

“Bran!” yelled Sansa. “Don’t!”

And Dany heard Rhaegal’s roar, and his wings beating the air…

She turned, and the dragon was heading right for Sansa. 

“Rhaegal!” Dany yelled, feeling as though she was losing control.

But then, she saw someone on the dragon’s back. And that someone scooped Sansa from the ground, holding her fast on the dragon.

Dany watched, and saw someone slithering behind the Night King…

She directed Drogon downward with a massive thud.

 

Tyrion was almost there…the Night King had not spied him…he would attack from behind and end this. 

His breath came fast, and did not hear nor pay attention to the screams all around. 

It was then that he saw Bran Stark, crawling toward the Night King from behind…

Tyrion froze, surely the King could feel the Stark there…he was by no means stealth.

…and just then, the King looked behind him…and Brandon slashed at his achilles heel, knocking him to the ground.

Then, Bran took his weapon and drove it into the heartless chest of the King, ending him.

Tyrion gasped…

The ice which formed around the King, the constant bluish white, began to crack, like glass. The shards came off of him, hovering in the air, then attached themselves to Bran. 

Bran laid there as the ice covered him, his hair turned white…

…and he stood.


	25. Chapter 25

What did this mean? Tyrion stood there, watching as Brandon Stark…he thought that was still Brandon Stark…stood, looking very much like the Night King. 

He didn’t know what to do. He was certain that the Night King had died; somehow Bran had gotten obsidian. But Bran…something more than odd had happened to him.

…and then he looked at Tyrion, standing some fifty hundred feet away in the trees. His eyes were blue glass…his skin white…and he started to walk toward Castle Black. 

He could move then. He snapped out of the trance he was held in, and made his way through the trees. 

He was breathing hard…trying to think what to do. Should he attempt to kill him? Was he Bran any longer? He watched, as Bran emerged from the tree cover, and held his hands up.

The fighting stopped immediately. The other Wights looked at him, then came over to him, standing behind him. The whites, meanwhile, though their numbers were thin, immediately fell over, unmoving.

“Jon Snow!” Bran yelled. “Jon Snow!”

Tyrion watched the King of the North emerge, rather bloodied by the battle, from among the soldiers. “Bran?” he whispered.

“Jon,” and Bran nodded. “There are things which you should know. Things I know now…I am the Three Eyed Raven, and now I am the Night King. These things have been chasing me since I left Winterfell, and I finally made peace with it all,” he nodded. “I had awakened the Night’s Armies in a vision, gave them power they didn’t have before…the power to advance on the Wall. Now, they will stay behind it, and not harm those who live here. I have no desire for an army nor war…” and Bran walked toward Jon…

…Jon, who was standing next to Jaime, and some of the other commanders. Dany walked nearer, and Tyrion emerged from his cover, walking over toward the group. 

“I have seen Westeros and her secrets. I have done harm by visiting the past, though my intention was always to make things better. It did not always go as I had hoped. I have always attempted to avoid war, to protect the people of Westeros. I gave the Free Folk who live north of the Wall the opportunity to move southward… As the Three Eyed Raven, I could change things, but never the way I intended to. As the Night King, I will change things for the better, but Westeros must live in peace. This is my penance for changing things which ought never to have been changed.” Bran looked at the company around him. His eyes stayed on Daenerys. “You are the Targaryen princess.”

She nodded.

“You are charged with this peace…and I know that though you are not the peacemaker, she lives as a possibility. Only you can realize this fate,” he looked at Tyrion. “You are an agent of peace, Tyrion Lannister. And your wisdom will help usher her in,” he looked at Jon. “Jon Snow, I know who you are…Jaehaerys Targaryen, as your mother Lyanna named you. Son of her, son of Rhaegar…you are the son of fire and ice, to bring peace to the North.”

Jon was overcome, “What? Ned wasn’t…”

“No. Ned Stark was your uncle. Lyanna, your mother, fearful for your life, asked Ned to take you in and make you his own. She loved your father, Jaehaerys. Though a bastard still, you are a Targaryen. And you, along with your aunt, can bring a peace to Westeros,” Bran nodded. “I will bring the Wights with me, and live out the millennia.”

“Bran!” screamed Sansa. “No…” and she emerged from Castle Black. “No…” as she looked at him. 

Bran looked at her, and though little emotion registered on his face, his eyes held sorrow. “I must be leaving you, sister. I’m sorry.”

Sansa looked at him with shock and horror. “What’s happened to you, Bran?”

“I’m living my destiny,” and he smiled at her, if it could be called such, then turned and began to walk away, bringing the remaining Night’s Army with him.

“Don’t…” Sansa muttered, but Jon took her arm, preventing her following him. “Where is Arya?” she called.

Bran turned. He looked at them all. “Arya is safe, wandering the river lands. She will be home soon enough, for the winter, though cold, will not be as long nor as severe. I shall see to it,” and he turned away, fading into the cold mist which filled the wood beyond. 

Sansa buried her face into Jon’s shoulder…and the rest of those present were left feeling the piercing chill ebb a bit. 

“We should go inside and fix some food,” Dany announced. She turned toward Tyrion, and tears formed in her eyes. In the moments since Night King first arrived, she nearly had forgotten all else. She was unhurt, and it appeared that he was well. 

Could the gods have been so generous? Their numbers were still plentiful, only a few dozen had fallen by the looks of it…

“Tyrion Lannister,” she whispered. “Come with me,” and she held her hand to him. “I’d like everyone to return to their shelters. When day breaks, we will begin the journey,” she paused. “Home.” And she looked at Jon…no…Jaehaerys Targaryen…her nephew. “Come, Jaehaerys. Bring your cousin with you. And you, Jaime. Let’s get in out of the cold.”

The five of them followed Dany after Jaehaerys and Jaime issued some final commands. 

Jon was wearing a look of fierce confusion and doubt. He appeared to be incensed at the mention of the name, Jaehaerys…and would not look at Sansa. 

Tyrion saw this and noted it for the conversation at the table. They would all be weary, but he would need to make Jon…Jaehaerys…he corrected…see that Sansa was in love with him, too. And now, as cousins, it could be realized. 

Tyrion was overcome with everything he had just witnessed, confused that it wasn't a longer, bloodier battle, grateful that he was alive, more grateful still that Daenerys was unscathed. The gods had smiled on them.

They made their way to the dining hall, and Dany gave the order to make as much stew and bread as possible…she was not sure of the stores, but one more meal was needed, and she hoped that that could be accommodated.

The five sat, and wine was brought.

“Oh, my dear fellow…more than that meagre amount, if you please,” Tyrion said to the hand. He poured out the carafe and handed the cups around. “Now. That was a very illuminating and interesting couple of hours, wouldn't you all agree?” he sipped long.

No one spoke. They all appeared to be in shock…”I think that there a few things which need to be examined before we discuss the many…other…things,” and Dany drank as the hand brought two more carafes.

“I’ll take that one,” Tyrion said. “The other can be given to those four there,” he took one of the carafes and emptied his glass, then filled it once more. 

Dany cleared her throat, smiling slightly at Tyrion. “Now. It appears that I have a nephew I didn’t know that I had,” and she looked at Jaehaerys. 

Jon swallowed. “I’m not sure what to make of this, Your Grace. It’s…unsettling…to say the least. My whole world view was just turned on its head.”

“Nonsense,” said Tyrion. “I’d say your fortunes have only increased with what Bran said. You are too maudlin, Jaehaerys. You know your parents identities. You are King of the North, probably more legitimately than before. You have leave now to love your cousin. And you discovered that your other cousin is still alive. You have lost Bran, to be sure. But think of everything you have gained.”

“None of that changes the fact that I am not who I thought I was,” Jon sneered at him, though he appeared to be much more menacing than his tone.

“And who were you?” Tyrion demanded, sitting back in his chair. “You were the bastard of Ned Stark. Half brother to the Stark heirs and children. Recently named King of the North. And now you have more family than before, you have the knowledge of your mother’s identity… you lost a dead father but gained a dead uncle.”

“How can you speak so callously?” Jon replied. “My father was Targaryen?” he shook his head and downed his wine.

“And you have gained a dragon,” Dany smiled. “Fittingly, Rhaegal is now yours to command.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, but what am I to do with a dragon?”

Dany laughed. “Whatever you see fit to do. He is obviously yours…you rode on his back, commanding him.”

Jon stood. “I don’t want him. I want…” he stopped. He looked at them all, his eyes finally resting on Sansa. “What do I do?”

Sansa touched his hand, then pulled him back to the seat next to her. “Let’s just wait and see, Jon.”

His face was solemn, melancholy…but he sat next to her. 

“The rule of Westeros will be a steady one heretofore,” began Dany. “My nephew and I will command her together, and with our chosen partners, Westeros will begin anew.”

“Wise and lovely words, Your Majesty,” said Jaime. “But I am not part of this new family, so I’d ask for leave to return to Casterly Rock when day breaks.”

Dany’s chin lifted a touch…”Why?”

“Pardon me?” Jaime asked.

“Why do you wish to return to Casterly Rock? Your services could be useful in King’s Landing.”

“I do not think, with all due respect, that that would be a wise decision for anyone. Think about what you are suggesting,” Jaime downed his wine.

“And what says my Hand?” she turned to Tyrion.

“I think…” he looked at his brother. “I think that I am ill suited to comment.”

“Well. What about you, King Jaehaerys?”

“Jon,” he corrected.

“As you like,” Dany replied.

“I can’t say that I like the King Slayer. But Your Majesty will do as she sees fit.”

“You just served next to him,” Dany observed. “Was he or was he not a capable commander?”

Jon looked at Jaime Lannister. “He was.”

“Well, then. I’d like to appoint you Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

Jaime blanched a bit, looking down. “Your Grace, I think that I should probably retire my armor…”

“You shall return with me to King’s Landing. You shall organize the Queen’s Guard. If you feel as though you need to retire to Casterly Rock, I’ll not stop you. But you shall have the choice of commanding them.”

Jaime nodded, stood, looked at Tyrion, who was mute. “Thank you, Your Grace,” and he left with a bow.

Dany played with her cup. “You have leave to do as you will in the North, King Jon. I only ask that you alert me to significant changes,” she looked at him. “And I will keep you informed as well of the goings on in King’s Landing.”

He exhaled slowly, and rubbed his face. “Thank you, Your Grace. I don’t know where to begin.”

“You begin,” Tyrion interjected. “Where you left off. Nothing has changed, really. As I said, most everything has altered for the better.”

“You are my nephew, Jaehaerys. And I hope that once you are comfortable, you will allow me to welcome you as my kin,” Dany smiled at him.

Jon looked at Sansa…

…Sansa, who was holding him with her eyes steadily. “I’ll be here for you,” she said. “You won’t be alone.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know anything anymore, Sansa.”

“You know more than you realize, Jon Snow,” she smiled.

He smiled, a genuine smile, and kissed her hand. 

“Now that we’re all friends again, let’s enjoy some of this stale bread they’ve brought us…” and Tyrion reached for a piece, and passed around the bowl.

 

It was long past dawn again when Tyrion and Dany finally went back to their room. The plan was to sleep until the sun rose once more, then make way south to Winterfell, stay a few days there, then head back to King’s Landing. 

There were things to be seen to in preparation for the winter. 

Dany was equal parts excited at the prospect of going back to the Red Keep and nervous. Tyrion had not responded to her proposal to make him her King. 

But what with Brandon Stark’s suggestions, Dany thought that there was no other possibility for the two of them.

“What did you make of Bran’s words to us?” she asked, sitting by the fire Tyrion had just lit. 

He sighed…he knew this was coming. “I didn’t give them much thought, really.”

“Well, now is an opportunity to think about them.”

He sat across from her and sipped the wine she had poured. “Something about peace…and he referred to peace with a female pronoun.”

Her eyes went wide. “Yes, precisely. And what do you think that means?”

“Clearly you have some idea, Your Grace.”

“I do, yes.”

He sipped, and then his eyebrows went up in question. “Well, though I am smarter than most, mind reading cannot be claimed as among my talents.”

She smiled. “I think that he meant that we will have a daughter, and that she will be the key to lasting peace in Westeros.”


	26. Chapter 26

He was running along the bank of the stream after them. There was thick fragrance in the air, the blossoms of high summer were in bloom and made him heady with the scent. The blue water just below was played over the river rocks, and lapped softly…

He wanted to catch them, mostly because she was always stealing him away from him. No one loved Tyrion except Jaime, and Cersei was quickly usurping his position as favorite sibling.

His breath was heavy, for his lungs were not quite as big as his peers…  
Nothing he had was, really.

Along the slope he ran, the pair ahead of him still in his line of sight. 

Until they weren’t…

Tyrion slowed, knowing that they must have ducked away into a hollow of some sort.

He crept along, looking to his right for where they might be.

And there…just beyond…they were falling into the tall grass, laughing. 

He went up to them, desperate for Jaime’s attention…

…and saw them kissing deeply, their hands roaming each other…

And Cersei saw him…her face contorted into a hateful grimace…”What are you doing?” she demanded.

He stepped back…”I…”

Cersei got to her feet. “Do you like what you see, imp? It will never be yours. No one will love you. No one will want this with you…”

“Jaime loves me,” he said softly.

And she laughed, maniacally…”Our love is something you will never understand,” she started to approach Tyrion. “For you are a freak of nature…you’ll never know love like this, nor will you marry…have children…they’d be hideous…”

“Cersei!” Jaime said, standing. “Enough.”

She sneered at him, then turned toward Jaime. 

And young Tyrion walked away, swallowing his emotion…

“Tyrion?”

He snapped out of his reverie, and was back in the room at Castle Black with Daenerys, Part of him wished that Cersei could be alive to see him now. “Yes?” he poured more wine. 

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, really.”

Dany examined his face a moment, then looked into the fire. “Do you have another theory about Brandon’s meaning?”

“No. Though I confess a daughter was not something which sprung to mind.”

Dany sighed, then looked at him. She could see that there was something bothering him, she knew him well enough to see that much. “There was not much I ever wanted in life…love was among them, justice. I wanted to be an agent of change for the good, but for myself, I wanted little,” she sipped her wine. “When I became with child, I thought that my life was complete, and when I lost the child, I thought that I’d die. Even with losing both my husband and my son, and experiencing the passing of their strength to me, I had become an utterly different person. I wanted nothing for myself,” she poured more wine. “Until now,” she looked at him. “Now I am selfish, for I want you. I have you, mostly,” she nodded with a grin. “But I want more. I want our child. I want you as my King. I want to spend my life with you, and only you…yes, I am Queen. And though that is a fulfilling and important thing, it is not enough.”

“Can I be enough to satisfy your many wants and needs?”

She leaned toward him. “Without a doubt.”

He swallowed. “Dany, you told me, just a few nights ago, that you could not have children.”

Her gaze fell, and she sat back once more. “I believed that to be true. But perhaps it was a mistake when the witch told me. I somehow believe in Bran’s magic over hers.”

“Because you want to believe it.”

Dany swallowed. “That is fair.”

He shook his head and looked away. 

“Tyrion…”

“Hm?”

“Marry me.”

 

The castle was very dark as he walked through. Castle Black, indeed. 

He had not answered Daenerys. She was displeased with that, but he honestly had no idea what to say. He rather thought that they had been over this…

And to think! She wanted him to father her child. It was beyond the pale.

He went to the main hall to find someone slumped in a chair by the fire.

Jon Snow.

He cleared his throat.

And the newly realized Targaryen turned to look at him, but made no indication that he wanted him to join. 

That mattered little to Tyrion, he had never proclaimed obedience to social requirements, as such.

So, he sat across from him by the paltry fire, and looked around him. “No wine?” he mused. And he looked for a hand…”And no help. No wonder you appear to be so glum, King Jon.”

But he was staring at the fire, a look on his face which would have told anyone else that he wanted to be left alone.

“Tell me, Jaehaerys, what is it that ails you so?”

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered.

Tyrion smiled. “How would you care to be addressed, Ser?”

“Jon’s fine,” he looked at him. 

“Tell me then, Jon. Were you happy as Ned Stark’s bastard?”

“I knew who I was.”

“Did you? You were fairly upset that your mother’s identity remained a mystery, as I recall.”

And he looked to his lap. “I had come to terms with that.”

“Very good. But you were not happy.”

“And you think that I’ll be happy now?” his eyes flashed at him and he poured some wine.

“Ah! There it is. You are a selfish King, Jon,” Tyrion held his hand out towards the other cup.

Jon rolled his eyes and poured Tyrion some. “Will you ever stop drinking so much, Lord Tyrion?” he asked.

“Why does everyone always ask me that?” he sat back with his cup. 

“Because you are clever, and a clever man knows that he can’t be so if he’s always drunk,” Jon sipped. “Besides, you are on the arm of the Queen. She likely has something to say about it.”

“Daenerys has not said much in terms of my drinking. Though I’d imagine at some point she will share her opinion,” he sipped. “But you have not answered me.”

“What was your question?”

“Were you happy as a Stark bastard?”

Jon looked away. “No.”

“No,” he agreed. “Then cease this endless melancholy! You are in a rare position, Jon. You have had so much just handed to you in a few short hours. A smile is warranted.”

“What’s been handed to me? A name I hardly know nor want. An aunt…” his voice trailed.

“Come. You know of what I speak.”

Jon’s face paled a bit. He downed his wine. “I don’t.”

Tyrion sighed. “Must I be explicit? I suppose I must. Nuance is not always appreciated, nor humor these days,” he leaned forward. “Tell Sansa you are in love with her.”

“I…” Jon began his objection.“Come man! Don’t take me for a fool. That I will not abide. She is a lovely woman, and you love her. Just out with it already, lest we all suffer your endless longing glances and her limitless blushes,” he sipped more wine and sat back. “The fire is nearly out,” he observed. “A dutiful King would see to it,” he smirked.

Jon’s mouth hung agape, and he shook his head, standing, and threw a few logs into the hearth. He turned toward Tyrion. “Do you think that she…?”

“Of course she does. Any fool could see it.”

Jon folded his arms in front of him. “I didn’t want to admit it, you know. I loved someone once,” he sat down again. “I think I never stopped loving her…”

“What was her name?”

“Yggrite. She was a wildling.”

Tyrion nodded. “Well, luckily, we are fortunate to have the opportunity to love again. I loved someone too, not so long ago. And I fought my heart where our Queen was concerned.”

“What happened? To your love?”

“She died.”

Jon smirked. “As did Yggrite.”

“Then time to begin anew, Jon Targaryen. New name, new station, new love.”

“Sansa…she and I…we never were that close,” he began. “She was very much a princess, and I was never a prince.”

“Because of your name, Jon.”

“No. More than that. We had nothing in common…but when I finally saw her…when she came to the Wall after leaving Ramsay Bolton…it was like…” he hung his head. “Like…she was a completely different person. And so was I. And…” he looked at Tyrion. “And she was beautiful in my eyes.”

Tyrion nodded. “That she is.”

“But I didn’t know what to do. She was my sister. She was in pain. And though we found some solace in one another, there was always this unsaid something. And now…”

“Now you are cousins, and that is legal,” Tyrion observed.

“But does she want me? I don’t even know who I am. I’m a Targaryen son?”“And a Stark.”

He nodded. “What do I do?”

“Confess your heart to her.”

He smiled. “And what will you do?”

“Me? I don’t see how…”

Jon looked at him. “Our Queen knows what she wants. It’s plain that she wants you to sit next to her as the King.”

“Sansa told you,” he looked at him with accusatory eyes.

“Yes. But I would have seen it anyway.”

Tyrion sighed. “Daenerys believes that Bran’s speech to her and I means that we are to have a daughter together.”

“Seems reasonable.”

“She cannot bear children.”

Jon looked at him. “She can’t?”

“That is what she claims, at any rate,” he handed Jon his empty cup to fill.

“Well, maybe there’s a way. Besides, being her King doesn’t mean you need to have a child.”

“No,” he sipped long.

“Should I call you Uncle Tyrion?” he smiled.

“There it is. Some mirth. And no. I am in no way your uncle yet.”

“Yet,” he repeated, then paused and looked at him deliberately. “I think that you’d make a just King and advisor to Daenerys. You are the type of person who would be there for her and for Westeros.”

“You hardly know me, Jon.”

“I know enough.”

Tyrion looked away from him. “Yes, well. There are things which I don't even understand about myself. For example, why did I hesitate when she proposed marriage just now? Why did I not give her an answer?”

“She proposed?”

He nodded.

“And what did you say?”

“Not much. I told her that I would give her an answer by the time we reach King’s Landing.”

“You love her, though. That is plain enough.”

“With all my heart.”

Jon shrugged. “And she loves you…what’s stopping you?”

Tyrion drank the rest of his wine. “I have, if you haven’t noticed, some deformities of a very specific kind. Most men do not possess these deformities, but those whom I’ve known to have them, seldom find romantic love. There are many men in the world who are more handsome…and taller…than I. Now, it isn't that I do not believe Her Majesty to be true. More like, I don't know if it will last.”

“No love is guaranteed to last forever.”

“A wise observation, Jon. And one made by another to me not so long ago. I simply think that it is more likely in my case that her love for me is fleeting.”

“So you are afraid of a broken heart.”

“Of course I am. My heart has been broken on so many occasions that it is remarkable that it beats ever still in my chest.”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Tyrion. You are too wise for me to do such a thing. But I do know that it’s better to have had love and to have lost it, then to give up on it altogether.”

“A wise adage to be sure,” he raised his cup in toast. “Easier said, though, my fellow.”

“And if I went and told Sansa now that I was in love with her, would you accept the Queen’s proposal?”

Tyrion looked crookedly at him. Jon wore a smirk. “No. But I will give Daenerys her answer by the time we leave Winterfell, if you confess to Sansa in the same timeframe.”

Jon stood, went to Tyrion, and grasped his forearm. “Consider it an agreement.”

Tyrion stood. “And might I call you Jaehaerys?”

“No. You may call me Jon Targaryen.”

“Very well, Jon Targaryen. I’m off to bed,” he dropped his arm. “We leave in a few hours, and we both require sleep. I am glad to see you embracing some of the fortune handed to you,” he bowed, and turned away.

The crackling of embers the only sound left as Jon sat back in front of the fire.


	27. Chapter 27

It was a strange thing, allowing her babies to fly ahead of her…though she did allow Rhaegal to stay, since he was, after all, Jon’s now. 

He seemed indifferent to that fact.

Dany was perplexed by it, for what ruler wouldn't want a dragon? But, she supposed, he was more than just melancholy. The man was positively gloomy. She had not seen his equal. 

She rather thought that he had been beset by much sadness and confusion in his life, and that was the source of his discontent. But his life, she believed, was about to take a turn. He was going to lead the families of the North to a new era of confidence during the winter. He would be a part of a new era in Westeros…

They were heading back to Winterfell, the caravan was large; the air, cold. The horses were in fairly good shape, and considering the distance they still had to travel, they had better be.

She patted her mount and looked around at the bundled soldiers. 

Tyrion was just ahead of her…

And he hadn’t given her a proper answer. He was avoiding it, she thought, and that angered her somewhat. She had been pushing and pushing…and he…he continued to resist. Perhaps she simply cared for him more than he cared for her. That wasn't out of the question. It hurt a bit, but she thought that she could live with that. It happened all the time, really.

But it was still disconcerting…and she was frightened that she’d live to regret it.

Perhaps it would be best if she gave him the space and time he obviously desired so much. Perhaps she wasn't being as sensitive as she ought. She knew her nature, and she knew that once her mind was made up, she did not take anything that stood in her path lightly. 

She looked at Tyrion once more. Part of her wished that she had never fallen in love with him…a small part, to be sure, but a part. This was mostly because she was now dealing with everything that plagued him…all of his insecurities and worries…and she wanted him to come to her whole and happy.

Her gaze fell.

No one was whole and happy…no one was whole that she knew. Everyone held pain, everyone was a bit broken. 

Perhaps Tyrion was just more beset by pain. 

Dany sighed and kicked the horse a bit. It would be a while until they reached Winterfell, longer still until they got to King’s Landing. She would need to contend with his silence for a while.

The camp that night was mostly quiet. They would be at Winterfell the next day, and the men were anxious to get back to their families so that winter could be properly prepared for. 

Dany sat there, staring into the campfire, and before long, decided that she would head into the tent. The wind was biting, the fire did little to quell it. 

The tent was rather big, and there were cots on the floor. She wouldn't change out of her clothes, it was too cold. She poured herself some wine and sat on a lone stool…it would be wonderful when she finally was back at King’s Landing. She wanted to make it her home. 

“Your Majesty?”

Dany looked up to find her nephew in the opening of the tent. 

She stood. “What can I do for you, Jon?”

“I…” he closed the flap and went over, sitting on a wooden stool across from her. “I’m sorry to bother you, Your Grace, but I was wondering what the crown’s position was on cousins marrying.”

Dany smiled and sat. “The crown recognizes such a union as valid.”

He nodded, and looked down. “I thought, I was thinking,” he shifted on the stool. “Sansa and I might some day be wed.”

“Have you declared yourself to her?”

He looked at Dany, then looked down, shaking his head. “I haven’t.”

“Then how can you be certain that she will accept?”

“I’m not.”

“Sometimes you need to risk it,” Dany smiled.

And Jon looked at her. “How old are you, Your Grace?”

Her eyes fixed on him. “And how is that an appropriate question for a Queen?”

“Well,” he sat back somewhat. “You are offering me advice, and by the looks of it, we are close in age.”

“I am offering you advice, but I shall not answer that question, as it neither recommends me nor does it suggest that I am ill qualified to provide it.”

Jon shrugged. “When we arrive at Winterfell, do you an your men plan on staying long?”

“Are we not welcome?”

“Of course you are. I’m merely attempting to plan out our winter preparations.”

She smiled ruefully. “And do those preparations include a wedding?”

“Perhaps.”

Dany dropped her eyes. “Then should you and Sansa decide to marry over the winter, I expect an invitation.”

“Of course.”

“Was there anything else, King Snow?”

“Yes,” and he stood. “Please call me King Jon,” he nodded. “Jon Targaryen.”

She smiled, nodded, and held out her hand.

Jon kissed her gloved hand and turned, leaving. 

Dany sighed and went to her bed. She was happy that her nephew was finding some joy in things…if it could be considered joy. She was doubtful. 

She looked at the ceiling of the tent and closed her eyes…

…and dreamed about the sea.

 

Tyrion was anxious about arriving at Winterfell for a number of reasons. First, he was looking forward to being marginally warmer in a heavily fortified castle. Second, he was a bit overwrought at the thought of approaching Dany about her proposal. He had made a promise to himself and to Jon, and for Dany’s and Sansa’s sake, he really ought to just do it.

His ass was beginning to hurt from riding the horse for so long, and he was freezing. 

He pulled his cloak tighter against the wind; his head slumped in defense, his breath filling the scarf around his face.

He looked back at Dany. She was wearing the blue scarf he gave her wrapped closely around her face. She wasn't looking in his direction. 

Tyrion sighed silently. Winterfell’s towers would be rising soon, and they would have some merriment to partake in. 

Merriment! How long had he been able to enjoy some mirth? Free of threat of murder, of harm befalling those whom he cared for? How long since battle and war were not imminent? 

No. Now there was only the promise of winter. Winter, long, cold, and dark. 

And in the midst of all of it, Daenerys Stormborn, and her love…the source of his warmth and happiness.

The darkness came like a shroud, enveloping the atmosphere in the gloaming. 

He shivered, hoping that the torches would be reaching for the sky sooner than later. 

And lo, there they were…the torches of Winterfell. He sighed contentedly, and he heard Ghost howling for his master in the darkness…

 

Most of the men had left straight away for their homes. Jaime Lannister had retired to his quarters, and Jon was by the fire with Daenerys. “What will you do with the Queen Slayer Your Grace?” and Jon stoked the fire.

“I’m waiting for him to decide if he will stay in King’s Landing and become Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

Jon looked at her and his mouth fell open. “Your Majesty. He cannot be trusted. He has slain two monarchs.”

“I trust him.”

“But…” he sat down. “Why? How?”

“He is a proven warrior. He killed my father to spare the citizens of King’s Landing. He killed his sister to save his brother. He is not a villain.”

“He is a murderer, Daenerys.”

Dany was momentarily taken aback by his familiar tone, but immediately dismissed it as mere concern on his part. She swallowed. “I assure you, Lord Lannister…”

“He is not his brother, Your Grace. Whatever you feel for Your Hand should not cloud your reason…”

“That is enough,” she spat. “I will not be lectured. I will not have you presume to understand what it is that I feel or understand,” and she stood. “You may be the King of the North. You may be my brother’s son. But I will command your respect as your Queen.”

Jon nodded, stood, bowed, and turned to leave the room. 

Dany’s breath was heavy with emotion. She ran her forefinger over her forehead, and felt some perspiration. She took off one of her wraps and felt much better. 

There was not nothing to his speech. 

Was she being foolish in keeping Jaime alive? Should she just banish him to Casterly Rock as was originally planned? She truly believed that he posed no immediate threat, but for the long term…

Dany sat down again. Was she keeping him around for Tyrion’s sake? 

Perhaps. But the question was, did that mean that it was a poor decision?

“And what might our Queen be thinking of all alone by the fire?”

Dany turned and saw Tyrion walking toward the chair so recently occupied by Jon. “Nothing of consequence.”

“Hm,” and he sat down. “That, I think, is a lie.”

She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze. “I require some counsel.”

“Ah, well. That I can certainly assist with, seeing as how I am the Hand of the Queen.”

She smiled and then looked at him. “King Jon was just here, and he was voicing a concern he had over my choice of Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

Tyrion nodded, then looked around. “Winerfell is well known for many things, unfortunately, plentiful wine is not one of them,” and he raised a finger to a hand standing in the doorway. “Now, you have a question for me, Your Majesty?”

“Do you think that Jaime Lannister is a wise choice for the Queen’s Guard?”

“Do I think that Jaime Lannister is a wise choice for the Queen’s Guard?”

And then the hand returned with some wine, and poured it out for the both of them.

“That’s what I asked you,” Dany replied.

Tyrion drank deeply and sat back. “Well, I can give a few viewpoints on this. One, he has a history of murdering those he has been charged to protect. That is decidedly not desirable in a guard. Two, both of those instances can be reasoned away with a much higher ethical standard, more or less. Three, I happen to love him, since he is my brother, and has shown me kindness…so,” and he poured more wine. “I don’t think that I can offer an objective answer.”

“I want your answer, not an objective one,” and she sipped her wine.

He looked at her. “ I think that he is, though I wouldn't keep him as a permanent Lord Commander. Mostly for the reasons I just outlined, but also because I don’t think that he wants to be Commander.”

“And he should be allowed to choose?”

“In this case, yes, since it is a commitment unlike most.”

Dany nodded. “Thank you.”

“And…what will you do?”

“Perhaps nothing, since I have already given him the choice to either stay in King’s Landing after we arrive to aid in setting up the Guard. If he wants to keep the post, then I suppose I’ll need to make a decision,” and she looked into the fire.

“Did you already promise it to him?” he finished his wine.

“I told him that his fate was in his hands.”

He nodded. “There are many things unsettled, waiting for this war to be done.”

Dany swallowed…she looked at him tentatively. “That is true, yes.”

“I am not immune to that ailment…waiting for the war to end.”

She shook her head. “Well, I suppose that we all of us have an endgame.”

“And what is yours, Daenerys?”

“To live my life out in King’s Landing with as much peace and happiness I can offer the Seven Kingdoms.”

“A very noble desire.”

“Very Queenly, as was my design,” she smiled. “Shall we to bed, my Lord?”

He watched her as she rose from her chair, his eyes tracing her body, now not so shrouded in layers of clothing to stave off the chill…and he desired her, for it had been a few days since they had enjoyed one another. “Are you not fatigued from the journey?”

“No,” she said. “Come, Tyrion. Let’s get to bed,” and she turned, beckoning him to follow.

Tyrion slid off the chair and watched her as he followed her through the passages of Winterfell…until they reached her rooms, and she opened the door, leaving it ajar for him to enter. 

He shut the door behind him.

And the fire was crackling in the hearth…Dany went to it, and took her clothes off completely. She went to the bed and climbed in. 

He went to her, got in bed, and kissed her deeply, cupping her breast, rolling on top of her as she began to take his clothes off. 

“Tyrion,” she whispered.

“My Queen,” he breathed, and before long, he was inside of her, thinking to himself, this could be his life forevermore…and he would be a fool to turn his back on it…she leaned down to kiss him from her position above him…

“…my bride.”


	28. Chapter 28

She froze. The crackle of the fire was dwindling and the breathing between the two slowed. Silence fell in the room, not like a cloak but like a candle being snuffed out. She sat back up, he was still inside of her…”What did you say?” she asked very softly.

He was suddenly rather uncomfortable, and he wanted to get on with it, since he was almost there…another minute or two and he would climax. “I said, ‘My Bride’,” he paused. “Can we continue now?” and he moved a bit to encourage her.

Dany slid off of him and pulled the blankets up around her. “Did you just accept my proposal?”

Tyrion sighed. He thought that he was being romantic. Perhaps he should have waited until they were finished to say anything. Yet he was also concerned that her mood, which was more reserved than he was accustomed, had much to do with his delay in giving her a proper answer. He played with the hem of the blanket. “I did, yes. I hope that I didn’t take you too unawares.”

“You did.”

He side eyed her and swallowed. “Apologies, then, Daenerys. That wasn't my intention. I was hoping that my gesture would be regarded as romantic.”

Dany smiled to herself. Her heart was beating very fast…that vessel’s desire, though she was fairly certain that it would eventually come to fruition, at long last! She had been dreaming of this since she first confessed her heart to him…and though but little time had actually passed, she felt as though she had lived a lifetime. Dany looked to the window cloaked in tapestries to stave off the chill. 

They would have a daughter…she was certain of it. Bran had seen it. Bran, the Three-Eyed Raven…the Night King…he had seen it. And their child would eventually rule over peace and prosperity the Seven had never known.

Dany got up, still quite naked, and went to the window. She threw open the curtains and looked outside. 

All was white…the snow lay rather thickly on the rise surrounding Winterfell…they would need to leave soon, or else the roads would be impassable. 

“Your Grace?” his voice sounded very far away. 

“Tomorrow we make merry with the Starks. We will leave the day following, since the snow is so thick.”

He was confused by her reply. He had just agreed to marry her, and she was talking about traveling. “Dany?”

She turned to him, a small smile on her face. “Yes?” she asked soft and sweet.

“What are you thinking about?”

She approached him. “I want to return to King’s Landing to begin preparations for our wedding. Nothing grand, for it is winter. But to stay here much longer would be unwise.”

He nodded very slowly. “Are you happy?”

Dany crawled over to him and kissed his lips tenderly…it was not without passion, but without the ferocity she usually displayed. She pulled away. “You have made me the happiest of women.”

Tyrion smiled at her, then took her hair, and kissed her deeply, pushing her back into the bed. 

 

He laid prone to her, stroking her white blonde hair as she slept. It was morning, but you’d never know it. The sky was just as black as ever. 

He was happy, he was certain of it. 

He merely needed to be more certain, though he was uncertain how to be so. He simply could never let his guard down…he never could…and that was inhibiting his ability to be perfectly happy. He was waiting for something to go wrong, for it always did. 

Always, though the wrong which occurred was usually at the hands of two people who were now dead. 

He should learn to relax. 

Tyrion looked to the window which still had the tapestries open, and the cold was seeping in. He had never learned that, and he drank to excess as proof. 

He swallowed…perhaps he should begin to let that go. Drink, while helpful to a person whose woes are plentiful, is not so much for a person who enjoys some measure of happiness. 

And he looked at Daenerys sleeping soundly beside him. He could not recall her sleeping this deeply since they began sharing a bed. Perhaps because he was often asleep himself, but it was also likely that she was merely content. Perhaps he had rendered her so…

…and he smiled. To think! He, a mere dwarf, to cause such bliss in a Queen such as her that she sleeps as soundly as anyone he had ever known! He brushed her silken hair away…her artwork face held a soft smile etched upon it. She didn’t seem to be real.

He often thought that about her…she was too good to be true.

And she was in love with him.

They were to be married.

His head fell back against the headboard, and he closed his eyes.

 

Her dress was blue.

And the hall was loud…there was music playing as well as some dancing. 

A feast such as WInterfell had not seen in many years was underfoot, and Daenerys was sitting next to Tyrion, her hand covertly on his thigh. She was watching the festivities with a grin on her face, she believed that she had not stopped smiling since the night previous when he accepted her proposal, and she was being watched closely. She could feel it. 

Her eyes scanned the room, and her gaze settled upon Jon Targaryen, who was looking very glum. She sighed, and leaned toward Tyrion. “Go see what ails my nephew, love. He is looking especially despondent, and in my current state, I’d rather see everyone smiling.”

“I can tell you that he will have some excuse. He will simper about something, and tell me that Sansa will never love him.”

“But she does already,” Dany smiled at him.

“Perhaps you might seek out the lady in question and convince her to speak with our King Jon. I can make him laugh in the meanwhile,” and he took her hand into his own with a firm grasp and kissed it. 

Dany admired him and his ability to make light of any situation. She nodded and stood. “I’ll bring Lady Stark over to our sullen King. They will be dancing in one another’s arms within the hour,” and Dany turned, leaving to look for Sansa.

Tyrion admired her as she left, thinking how very fortunate that he, he held her heart. 

Dany wound her way through the hall, looking for Sansa’s bright red hair. She nodded to some nobles here and there…and there…there she was, along the periphery of the room, looking on with a forlorn look about her.

Dany smiled and went over to the young Stark. “Pardon me, my Lady…” and she looked up at her, for Sansa was much taller than the Queen. 

Sansa was taken from a trance and curtseyed. “Your Majesty,” and she smiled.

“What are you doing, Lady Stark, here by yourself?”

“Please call me Sansa, Your Grace.”

Dany smirked, and took her elbow. “And you may call me Dany, but only when we are by ourselves,” she added, and directed her to an adjacent hall. “And so Sansa, you and your cousin are Lord and Lady of Winterfell,” Dany began, as they walked down the torch lit hall.

“Yes, Your…I…” Sansa paused. “Dany. Yes…I don't think that we have worked it all out yet.”

“Worked out what, exactly?”

“Well, that is…we have no precedent. There haven't been cousins who have ruled the North.”

“There could be, if the houses agree to it.”

“They won’t, Dany. And I cannot blame them.”

They rounded a corner and Dany spied Tyrion speaking with Jon. “Come, Sansa,” she guided her to a corner lit with candles. “It’s much too loud in there to speak properly.”

Sansa followed her, a bemused look on her visage. “What is it, Your Grace?”

“What if there was a way for you to be Lady of Winterfell, and Jon, Lord?”“What do you mean?”

“Allow me to speak plainly. I believe that you and King Jon should marry.”

Sansa’s face fell. She paled, and turned away from Dany. “Pardon me, Daenerys, but I would rather not speak about this.”

“Why? Do I misread your looks and your blushes? Are you not in love with my nephew?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Dany stated bluntly and her back straightened. “It matters a great deal.”

And Sansa turned to her. “I am going to speak plainly, Dany. You have no idea what I’ve lived through, and what it’s left me as. I have nothing to offer anyone, for I feel quite empty. Part of me wants only to rage and storm and damn to all who stand in my way. Part wants to curl up and die. I cannot give Jon what he wants or needs. And I think…perhaps I am unfit for any type of rule.”

Dany swallowed. “You remind me of Tyrion,” she turned away from her and went to the tiny window laced with iron and ornate in its own way. “He thinks he is unfit for love. But it perhaps those who believe themselves unworthy who are, in fact, the most deserving,” and she turned to Sansa. “While it’s certainly true that I am not intimated with your sorrows and your sufferings, I know that you have been passed on from loveless relationship to loveless relationship. Bought and sold though no currency was exchanged. You have been a commodity, an object, and your hopes were squashed because of it,” she walked over to Sansa. “Would it not be wonderful, Lady Stark, to have love? Would it not set your mind at ease to be united with someone who loves you?”

Sansa appeared to have tears forming in her eyes. “Does he love me?”

“Of course he does. Anyone could see that. And though your heart is more shrouded, I believe that you, too, are in love.”

“It’s funny,” Sansa swallowed. “I always believed that I would marry a gallant King far away from here. I would be a proper Queen and sit up straight and craft gowns,” she turned away, and her eyes found Jon…”Never did I think I’d love a passionate warrior. A man who defies convention and who reluctantly took the crown…hardly a proper bone in his body. But then, I’ve become more like him, and less like the girl I once was. I don’t want to be proper. I want…”“To be loved?” Dany said softly behind her.

Sansa nodded.

“It is what we all desire, Sansa. And perhaps, though your journey was wrought with pain, it was what brought you here to your destiny. For the young Princess you were could never have loved Jon Targaryen…but the Queen brimming within you could.”

Sansa looked at her and smiled. “I see why Tyrion loves you so.”

“And I love him.”

“You will make fine monarchs,” and Sansa bowed.

Dany took her hands and lifted her to standing. “Go to my nephew. He wants you…” she cocked a brow and looked behind Sansa…

…and there, yes, Jon was watching them intently. 

Sansa swallowed her emotion and took her hands from Dany.

She began to approach Jon, and then he began his own approach…winding his way through the crowd.

They reached one another under a stone archway, connecting the grand hall to the passageway…

His eyes were on fire…Targaryen blood pulsing his want…and Sansa was a touch fearful, for she hesitated…

He took her head in his hands and pulled her into a kiss…

Sansa could be heard reacting to this, and she threw her arms around his neck…

The crowd stilled a bit, and gradually the din faded. All eyes were on the lovers. 

Dany walked around the outside of the arch, her gaze fixed upon the pair. 

At long last they pulled away, smiling at one another, and the company all erupted in applause. 

Tryion looked over at Dany, smiling widely, and she returned the smile, which turned into a laugh.

And then, there was some shouting heard coming from the entry hall…some scuffle of some sort.

The crowds turned their attention to the hall…there was yelling…

But before anyone could move, a man burst into the dining hall; a man with intensity carved into his features. A man no one recognized…

“Daenerys!” he yelled.

…and she remembered that voice, and her heart stopped. She looked at Tyrion…Tyrion, who recognized the voice as well, and his heart plummeted.

Jorah Mormont had returned, and he had found his Queen.


	29. Chapter 29

The sound that had issued from Jorah’s mouth was strained, as though he had run all the way from wherever he had been, and was exhausted. Tyrion heard it in his voice, and he turned toward the warrior. He could barely see him through the crowd, but what he saw was a man who appeared to be a bit worse for wear. He was healthy, though, and scanning the place for the Queen.

“Is she here?” he asked no one.

“I am,” came her voice from behind Tyrion…and he closed his eyes. He had no desire to witness any homecoming, any reunion of any sort. He swallowed, and began to turn away from Jorah, to slip unnoticed by anyone.

“Your Grace,” Jorah breathed, and walked toward her.

Her back was immediately up. She swallowed…this had taken her by surprise. She had not expected to see Jorah, had not thought about him, in so very long. Jorah Mormont reached her, and she regarded him with a critical eye. His greyscale had left marks, but it appeared to have stalled its march across his body…his eyes were ferocious…they bored into her with heat and intensity. “Ser Jorah,” she smiled. “You appear to be well. How is it you’ve come here?”

“I’m here because you told me to come back to you.”

Dany nodded. “Well, it is good to see you,” she smiled. “Let us speak privately,” she turned toward Jon. “Is there a place we can have private counsel?”

“Yes,” Jon approached her, looking at Jorah crookedly. “Follow me.”

“Where is my Hand?” she asked, looking around. She looked at Sansa. “Have you seen Tyrion?”

Sansa shook her head…looked around the immediate area. “No, Your Grace.”

“He was just here…” she frowned. “Tyrion Lannister!” she called, but received no answer. 

“I’ll find him, Your Majesty,” and Jaime appeared out of the shadow. “I’ll know where to look.”

“Thank you, Ser Jaime. Bring him to me at once,” and she turned on her heel and followed Jon out of the dining hall.

“You made the imp your Hand?” Jorah muttered to Dany.

“You will not refer to him as such, Jorah,” she replied, looking at him. “And he is more than capable as Hand.”

“Yes, but…where do his loyalties lie?”

“With me, of course.”

“How do you know?” he persisted.

Jon opened the door to a smallish room, it looked a bit like a library. Dany had not seen it before…there were a few bookcases, nothing to speak of…and some chairs around a wooden table. “Will this do, Your Grace?”

“Thank you, Jon. Once Jaime finds his brother, please direct him here,” she nodded to him, and Jon smiled, leaving them there alone.

Dany sat, then indicated that Jorah should sit across from her.   
He did, though he appeared to be anxious, and shifted a bit.

“Tell me your story,” she said.

He glanced at the door. “There is nothing to tell, really.”

“Oh I don’t believe that. The last I saw you we were on the outskirts of Meereen and you were inflicted with greyscale. I asked you to find a cure,” she smiled. “And to come back to me. And now, here you are, in Westeros, at Winterfell.”

He cleared his throat. “I went to Lotus Point, south of Westeros….there are springs there which are said to contain medicinal properties. I bathed in the springs, and then dried out the infection. A Maester there had me bathe in hot vinegar baths…and though some of the skin will never heal, the infection has stopped.”

“And now, you are here.”

“And now. Daenerys…” he reached for her across the table, but she made no indication that she would allow him to touch her, so his gaze fell, and he folded his hands on his lap. “My only thought was returning to you. I know that Daario is younger…handsomer…but my love is steadfast and strong,” he looked at her. “I also know that as Queen of the Seven you will need to make an advantageous match. But consider your own happiness, Daenerys! Think of what message you’d send to your people if their Queen married for love…”

“Thank you Jorah, for your insight. I am awed by your perseverance…and I am grateful for your advice. But I’m already taking it. I am marrying for love.”

He appeared to be quite confused…”You’re marrying Daario, then?”

“No,” Dany smiled.

His face lit up a moment. 

“I’m marrying Tyrion.”

 

“And how did I know that you’d be here, little brother?” Jaime approached Tyrion. 

Tyrion, who was drinking a large carafe sans a cup, sitting by the fire in the basement catacombs.

“Who puts a hearth in the catacombs?” Tyrion asked. “The dead have no need for warmth, and yet here sits a fire.”

“Well, I think that the Starks are very attached to their ancestry, and no doubt spend a lot of their time here among corpses,” he sat next to Tyrion on the floor in front of the fire. “And what are you doing here, brother?”

“I’m drinking amongst the dead,” and he sipped long.

“Why?”

“Because I feel as though I just died.”

“Because of Jorah Mormont? He’s the walking corpse. He’d be better off traveling to the Wall and finding Bran.”

“He will win Daenerys’ heart, Jaime,” he looked at the fire solemnly.

“I believe that that particular thing is yours, Tyrion. There is no taking it.”

“He’s always loved her.”

“Is that so?” and he took the carafe and sipped it.

And Tyrion reached next to him and opened another.

“How many of these did you bring?”

“Five. It was all I could carry,” and he downed some more wine.

Jaime chuckled. “You’ll need to go to her, you know. She is expecting you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are her Hand.”

He shook his head. “I gave her advice once on how to deal with Jorah. This time it will be on her.”

“That isn't for you to decide. You aren’t King yet, you are the Hand of the Queen, and she requires your presence.”

He took a very long draught. “I don’t want to.”

“Spoken like a child, not a man,” Jaime downed the rest of the wine. 

“I feel like a child.”

“Then get off your ass and go to her!” Jaime yelled, standing up, his voice echoing in the chamber. “Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself won’t do a thing. Jorah is up there now, begging her to marry him no doubt, and here you are, getting more intoxicated by the minute. It’s pathetic.”

Tyrion looked at him. “How can I compete with Jorah Mormont?”  
“You are, for all your wit, so very dull, Tyrion. You don’t need to compete. You have her heart. Now go to her before she regains her wits and tells you to pack your things.”

Tyrion shook his head, but stood. “What do I say?”

“You don’t need to say anything. You haven’t done anything wrong, except run from your Queen when she needed you.”

He nodded. “It’s peaceful here,” he looked around.

“It’s a catacomb full of corpses. I doubt the place sees much in terms of action.”

He laughed. “Do you miss her?”

Jaime cleared his throat and looked around. His eyes fell on the stone statue of Lyanna. “Every day.”

Tyrion nodded. “Well. I suppose I should go…see how Jorah Mormont survived greyscale.”

“Yes. Off with you now,” and Jaime smiled at him.

Tyrion began to walk away, then stopped and turned to look at him. “Will you stay in King’s Landing at Lord Commander?”

He snickered. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You are a fine warrior and leader,” and he left.

 

“Excuse me?”

“I’m marrying Tyrion Lannister.”

Jorah’s face fell. He shook his head…”You’re…”

“Marrying for love, just as you suggest,” she smiled.

“You are in love with him?” he sounded positively astounded.

“Yes.”

“How?” he breathed.

“How do I love him? Well, I haven’t thought of it like that, really…but I love him with every breath that I take, every beat of my heart. He is my life and my soul.”

At that, there was a knock.

Dany looked at the door…”Come in,” she called out.

And Tyrion entered the room. 

Jorah glared at him. “You. I brought you to her,” he seethed.

“And for that, you have my eternal gratitude,” and he sat down at the head of the table.

“How dare you mock me! You were in a box, on a ship…”

“Yes, thank for that colorful look back into my journey. And now I am here, at Winterfell, sitting on a chair. Good to know how the story ends.”

Jorah stood. “You have no right to her. I would have died for her…”

“Jorah, thank you…but I must ask you…” Dany began.

“And I wouldn’t?” Tyrion demanded.

“You?!” he spat. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I’m not. If you laugh it is of your own accord. Now, I can make you laugh. Of that I am certain.”

What came from his throat sounded like a growl. He drew his sword…and Dany yelled…but no words could be discerned…Tyrion closed his eyes…Jorah reared back, sword in hand, and without preamble, cast his blow…

There was a thud.

And then a scream…

Jaime Lannister came rushing into the room, wielding his own Valaryian steel…

And he found the Queen slumped across his brother’s lap. Tyrion looked at Jaime…”Help me, brother…”

Jaime rushed to his side and pulled Dany off of him. She was covered in blood, and there was no way to tell where the wound originated. “Help! The Queen!” he cried, and looked at Jorah, who was horror struck. “Don’t move.”

Tyrion didn’t feel the tears until he saw them falling on her face…her beautiful face…he was holding her…she was unconscious, but breathing…”No,” he whispered. “Do not leave me, Daenerys…please…no…”

“Daenerys,” Jorah was saying. “What have I done, Daenerys…” he went to reach for her.

“Do not come one inch closer, filth,” Tyrion spat. 

And guards entered the room, filling the space and crowding the Queen. 

“Jorah Mormont will be taken to the dungeon and placed in a cell,” Jaime was saying. “Jon, where is the Maester?”

Tyrion didn’t hear any of it. He was holding her close, holding onto the breath which was barely there, calling on whatever powers there were in the world, whatever gods might be listening, to smile upon his love…

For he loved her. He loved her, and he was only realizing how much, now that her dying body was bleeding all over his arms. “…and when we reach King’s Landing,” he was saying. “The fires will be lit, and there will be many cooks there, with boiling pots of stew. And once the weather is a touch more warm, we can venture again to the Street of Flour and bring bread back, just as we did all those weeks ago…” he said into her ear.

“Tyrion, the Maester is here to take Her Majesty,” Jaime said. 

He nodded, not caring that his face was covered in tears and in blood. “I want to follow,” he said, as she was lifted from his embrace.

“Of course,” said King Jon, “I’ll escort you behind her.”

And Tyrion fell in step behind the King of the North, in sad procession towards the healing rooms, where he could only hope that once more fate would be kind to him. 

Though he was such a little man, he likely used up all of his luck.


	30. Chapter 30

Tyrion was standing outside of the Maester’s room not moving.

He was thinking he should be inside with her…or else dead. He was thinking that he should probably be dead. 

How many times had he escaped death? 

On the road as Catelyn’s prisoner.  
At the Erye.  
At the Battle of Blackwater.  
Being accused of Joffrey’s murder.  
On the ship to Meereen.  
At the Red Keep by Cersei’s knife.

Countless other times.

…and probably more times he did not know about.

Yet here he stood, and she was in there. 

Daenerys Targaryen had also cheated death many times over…he thought that perhaps she would not be as lucky as he evidently was.

“Here,” came Jaime’s voice.

Tyrion looked, and a cup appeared before him. He took it and sipped.

It wasn't as sweet as he was accustomed.

He took it and sat next to the door, and looked up. 

Jaime, Jon, and Sansa were all standing there looking down at him. “She will be in there a while longer, Tyrion. Why not come sit by the fire?”

He smiled at Jaime. “Many thanks, Jaime. But I cannot.”

“Please, Tyrion,” Sansa walked toward him. “The Queen will need you to be strong. Come and have a rest while the Maesters see to her wounds.”

He shook his head and drank. 

Jaime sighed and nodded to both Jon and Sansa…”I’ll wait with him.”

Jon took her hand and they left, and Jaime sat next to Tyrion. “Well, I suppose this night will see the two of us drinking on a floor after all.”

Tyrion’s head thudded against the wall. “I had only just agreed to marriage.”

Jaime sat up. “You what?”

“Yes, it’s true,” and he drank. “I told her last evening. And she was wanting to leave tomorrow for King’s Landing to begin wedding preparations,” he paused and drank some more. “And now she may only leave as a corpse.”

“She won’t die.”

“How can you know that?”

“Bran said that she was to bring peace to Westeros, and that you were ushering something in. Daenerys can’t do that dead.”

Tyrion laughed. “Oh, Jaime. She could. Perhaps it is through her death that the seven unite in grief and honor for her.”

“You’re determined to be miserable.”

“I am not. I’ve been given more cause to be miserable than anyone, until now. And I’ll promise you something. I’ll not drink another sip if she lives, except to toast our marriage,” he raised his cup and drank deeply.

“Well, for that, I hope she does,” Jaime smiled at him. “You are a good person, Tyrion, and no matter what you believe, you deserve to be happy.”

“I believe that I deserve happiness. I just believe that the world thinks otherwise,” and he poured more wine.

“Perhaps. You are a wise fellow, brother. And you know of your treatment more than anyone.”

His face fell, and he looked at the floor. “What will happen, Jaime, should she die?”

He looked at him. “She won’t.”

“But say that she does.”

“Then we go on. That’s what must happen. What happens to everyone who loses someone that they love.”

And he smiled, looking at him with a forlorn gaze. “Well, I suppose you would know.”

“I do,” and Jaime drank his wine.

Tyrion sighed and looked at the ceiling. “You don’t need to stay.”

“I know.”

But they stayed there for about an hour anyway, sitting there, drinking, mostly in silence. Tyrion did not waver, never closed his eyes; Jaime did, but only slightly…

And then the door opened…”Ser…” the Maester was there, covered in blood. “If you want to go in now, it is safe to do so,” and he stood aside.

Tyrion stood, Jaime with him. He nodded, and went inside. 

The room was fairly dark, candles were lit all around.   
And Daenerys was laying on the bed, covered in warm overlays; there was no blood to be seen, save what was in the basin by the bed. 

“She was struck on her side, her arm was extended, and the blow missed any internal organs,” he looked at Tyion. “Ser…” he paused.   
Tyrion’s gaze was fixed on Dany…Dany, who was sleeping quite soundly from the effects of the poppy milk. “Hm?”

“Is it…” he looked at Jaime. “Is it true…Lord Commander…that they are…?”

“They are what?” Jaime said with some impatience.

“That,” he cleared his throat. “That Her Majesty and her Hand are romantically linked?”

Tyrion turned toward them. “What’s going on? What sort of questions are these?”

The Maester looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “Well, as it is, I suppose that I should be forthright,” he looked at his assistant. “You may go,” the Maester nodded, and he walked over to Daenerys, looking down at her. “It seems that our Queen is exhibiting the signs of early pregnancy. It could be nothing, since she is rumored to have abilities outside of the…normal…human experience,” he looked once more at the Lannister brothers. “But it is my opinion that she is very recently with child.”

The two were dumbstruck. 

“Is it possible that Her Grace is carrying your child, Ser?”

Tyrion swallowed. He nodded and looked at Dany once more. 

Jaime seemed to come to his senses first. “If Her Majesty is indeed expecting her heir, then every precaution must be made to ensure her health and safety. There will be a guard outside of here at all hours. Tyrion,” he turned toward him. “Stay here with her. I’ll be certain to send food and such as needed,” he smiled. “Congratulations,” and he turned toward the door. 

“Jaime,” he breathed.

He stopped.

“What is happening.”

“Stay with your fiancee, Tyrion. She may be having your child,” and he left.

“My child…” he repeated, and went over to Dany. “Where was she struck?”

“Her right side, Ser. Her ribcage. It appears that the blow broke one of her ribs, and we reset it. That was what took so long…we couldn’t risk it dislocating further and puncturing an organ.”

Tyrion sat down next to her. “I’m sorry. I simply don’t know what to say,” he smiled at the Maester. “Is it your opinion that she will survive?”

“It is,” and he took his instruments. “She is quite strong, but she should sleep for a day or so. I do believe that she will be fine. As will the child.”

He shook his head. 

The Maester cleared his throat. “I’ll be back to check on her later, Ser,” he bowed, and he left.

Tyrion sighed audibly and looked at his fiancee lying on the bed peacefully. He imagined what she had been doing some weeks ago now, as he had laid in the Red Keep with a neck wound. Probably not this, exactly. 

“He says that you’ll live, Dany,” he began. “He says that you may be with child. Our child…perhaps that daughter you think we are destined to have together,” he looked at his hands. “It’s simply unfathomable to me, though…all of it. I think I’m in shock, for I am remarkably calm and level headed, considering,” he laughed and looked at her once more. “I told Jaime that should you live, and we marry as planned, that I would not drink excepting to toast our marriage. I must be mad…” he breathed. “But should you not survive this, I’ll drink myself into oblivion. After I kill Jorah Mormont with my bare hands. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he smiled. “Well, Daenerys. Shall I tell you one of my stories you are so fond of?” he sat back, and began…

“There was a witch in the woods at Casterly Rock. Cersei visited her quite often. I’m not sure why, for she never seemed to me to be a person who believed in magic or fate, but I recall try clearly, following her there on several occasions. Once, when she was around fifteen, she left…pale as paper…and I watched from just beyond. She was with a couple of her lackeys, and they were silent as the grave. Cersei didn’t know that I’d followed…she was never quite aware of where I was back then. She sought to correct that shortly thereafter.

I then went to the witch. She was laughing fit to burst…mad with it, she was. I approached her. I said, ‘What is so funny that you are cackling like a madwoman?’ She stopped quite suddenly. ‘I know who you are,’ said she. ‘Well, I don’t know you, but you were speaking with my sister just now.’ ‘Your sister,’ she repeated. ‘Is a madwoman. Stay clear of her, little man.’ And she turned away from me. ‘What magic do you perform?’ I asked her. ‘What sort of magic do you fancy?’ she asked in return. ‘I want to know my fortune,’ I said, and to this day, I don't know why. 

She looked at me steadily. She said, ‘Give us a taste of your blood, then. Busy day for Miss Magy.’ And she took out a knife…I was hesitant when she handed it to me. But I took it, and I sliced my palm. She licked the blood from my hand, and looked at me. ‘Three questions, like your sister.’ I paused, for three questions seemed simultaneously too much and too little. ‘Will I leave Casterly Rock?’ I asked her. ‘Oh yes,’ she replied. ‘Your travels are extensive…quite over the wide world and back again.’ I nodded, encouraged. ‘Will anyone ever love me?’ She smiled an odd smile. ‘You will have a love you never expected to have…though it comes at a price.’ And I paused. ‘Will I die a horrible death?’ She laughed. ‘Every death is horrible. But yours will be especially so.’ 

I never thought about what that meant until now. Perhaps it wasn't that I was to die a painful, horrific death. Perhaps my life was to become so grand that leaving it would be horrible…” he looked at her, tears streaming down his face. “My life, Dany, has become as grand as I could ever imagine. Because of you.,” he cleared his throat. He would need to be strong. It seemed as though she would be surviving this, so there was no need for tears or other such displays. 

He was simply terrified for her. 

And he would not think about the child, if there was a child…

He took her hand, kissed it, and sat back into the chair. 

 

There was pain. 

A dull ache in her side…and she swallowed. Nothing. Her mouth was utterly dry.

Dany opened her eyes and looked around…

She did not recognize where she was, and she was alone. She then attempted to sit up…

But her side screamed at it, and she decided against it. “Hello?” she croaked. She had no strength in her. 

Nothing.

Her heart began to quicken, and she tried to think about her most recent memory…She was in Westeros. She had made it to King’s Landing on her ships. She had heard of a threat in the North, and travelled there. There was a battle. There was snow…and she was in…

She looked around once more.

Winterfell.

And she was at a party, and Jorah came, and then…

Tyrion…

Dany sat up now despite the pain. 

Jorah had been about to strike down Tyrion, and she shielded him with her body…and she must have been hit. 

The door opened, and there stood Tyrion. His mouth fell open. “Daenerys?” he whispered. He backed out. “The Queen! She is awake!” 

Many people flooded the room then, all surrounding the Queen in their concern. 

Tyrion remained along the periphery, watching as they tended to her needs. She wanted water. Yes, it hurt. The bandages were changed, and Daenerys remarked on the amount of blood loss. No, no more poppy milk. It was not too bad. Perhaps later.   
Her answers were abbreviate, she appeared to be anxious. 

“What happened to Jorah Mormont?” she finally asked.

“He is in the dungeon, Your Grace.”

“I want his head on a spike for attempted regicide.”

The people then bowed, and left her one by one as her needs were seen to.

Eventually, only Tyrion remained. 

He smiled at her. 

Dany did not return the smile. “What happened?”  
“What happened, when?” he went to her and sat in the chair he had held vigil in.

“Everything. How is it that I tried to save you?” she felt something deep inside of her…a warm feeling toward Tyrion, but as yet, unnamed. 

“How is it…?” he was confused. “Daenerys…what are you talking about?”

“You’ll need to help me, Tyrion. I know that we are…that there is something between us…but I don't exactly remember. I know that I blocked Jorah from striking you down…”

“You don’t remember?” he repeated.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his heart hit the floor. She did not remember that she loved him. 

And in that moment, he realized that he could make things easier for everyone if he simply said to her that there was nothing. Then her rule would be unimpeded and she could make an advantageous match. He could sacrifice his own heart for Westeros. He could allow her an ascent to the Throne which would be free of mockery, free of ties…

Even if there was a child.

But he had learned something throughout all of this. He had learned that he was worth much more than what his father or his sister had believed. He was a person, and this person loved Daenerys. He would not be a martyr. 

“I’ll help you, Your Grace,” he finally said. “As your Hand, it would be my pleasure.”


	31. Chapter 31

The room was kept warm as Dany laid there, mostly sleeping, throughout the day. Tyrion did not waver in his vigil, for he thought that should he leave, he would not return. The fact that she had forgotten her feelings for him weighed on him arduously. 

He wondered if she had, perhaps, forgotten other things…she knew who he was, that is, she knew his name. Whether she knew she had named him her Hand was as yet unknown. 

She knew that she cared about him, since she had risked her life to stop a sword from killing him.

Tyrion ticked these things off in his mind. He thought it odd that she was unsure of this one thing…this most important of things…and part of him wondered that perhaps this wasn't a ruse to get rid of him. 

But to love is to trust, and he must needs trust her, for if he didn’t, he was wasting his time. 

And so he sat there, for her, though she knew not why he sat…the fact was that he knew. He knew, and so he sat.

Tyrion heard the door open, but didn’t turn around. 

“I brought you some food,” Sansa Stark said behind him. 

“Thank you, my Lady. But I’m not hungry.”

“Her Grace needs you to be strong,” and Sansa set down the tray and pulled a chair next to him by the bed.

He looked at her and smiled. “Yes. I know she does…but the thing is, Sansa, Daenerys doesn’t know.”

Sansa swallowed and lowered her gaze. 

Tyrion took her hand in his…”Come, sweet Sansa. Don’t despair. I know that she loves me. I just need to remind her.”

She nodded. “How will you remind her?”

“I have no idea.”

Sansa Stark looked at the sleeping Queen. “Perhaps…when did she fall in love with you?”

And now Tyrion looked at Dany. “After we reached King’s Landing, I believe…though I cannot be certain. We never discussed it explicitly.”

“You should return then. Perhaps do some of the things you did while there. Maybe then that would spark her memory,” she smiled. “I do so want you to be happy, Tyrion. And I know that you are very happy with Daenerys.”

“I am,” his gaze fell. “I’m not worried, really…” though he was. “I simply wish that it hadn’t become complicated. I had made things unnecessarily difficult with my wavering, and now…” he sighed. “Now yet another impediment.”

“There are challenges in every relationship,” she replied. “Jon says it’s the way of the world.”

He smiled at her. “You are happy, I can see.”

She blushed, and her eyes fell. “I am. Had anyone told me six years ago where I’d be now…I never would have believed them.”

“No. Nor I,” he laughed. “What a ludicrous time we’ve lived, Sansa. Happily absurd.”

Sansa shrugged. “I’ll let you have some peace. As soon as she is able to be safely moved, though, I would advise it. The snow will soon disallow any travel.”

Tyrion nodded. “Quite right. I’m hopeful that the Maester will tell us she can be moved within the next few days. It will be a dark passage…the sun is becoming evermore reticent.”

“Daenerys is lucky, Tyrion.”

He shrugged his indifference. “I suppose we shall see.”

She stood and kissed his cheek. “Please eat something,” and she left.

He sighed. “I thought that I was the lucky one, Daenerys. Sansa Stark is contrary enough to prove me wrong,” he stood and went to the small table that Sansa had laid his plate. He sat and nibbled at the food…

 

Doors…there were many…and all locked…

She was in the House of the Undying…and there were whispers all around. Names…names she could not make out…

“Hello?” she called out.

“Moon of My Life.”

Dany whirled around, and there he was. Her husband. Drogo…”My Son and Stars…but you are not speaking Dothraki…you are speaking…”

“Your language, Khaleesi. The common tongue,” he walked toward her. “I am gone from your land.”

“I miss you.”

“But there is not time for lament. You have much yet to do.”

Dany nodded. “I know. I made it across the Salt Sea, on many ships. Just as you had planned it.”

“And you sit on your Throne.”

She smiled. 

“And there is more yet…I never wanted you to be alone, Moon of My Life.”

“I believed that I wanted to be.”

“No, Khaleesi,” and he touched her cheek. “There is much to be revealed here yet. Find your path, Dany…” and he kissed her lips, and turned away.

“Drogo!” she yelled, but he disappeared.

She sighed, and began to walk in another direction; paths were odd here, and she was unsure of where she should be heading. The place was eerie and dark, and very cold. She pulled her clothes tighter around her. 

The ground was soft beneath her feet as she stepped purposefully through the place. 

And quite suddenly, there was a burst of light ahead…fire. Dany smiled, for it meant that her babies were here! She walked toward the light, and toward the door that the light came from. She opened it (this one opened readily), and a vast abyss lay before her. 

It hadn’t been fire. It was the night sky, and a falling star had passed closely to the door. She looked around at the open space…dark, with pixels of light peppered throughout her vision.

“Daenerys,” came a voice. She turned. 

A fair woman was smiling at her…dark hair, sharp features…”Who are you?” Dany asked. 

She didn’t answer.

“I demand you speak,” and her chin rose.

She smiled. “You have much more to do.”

“I don’t know you…” Dany was confused.

“No. But I know you. And I know things about the people in your life.”

She had a strange accent, and Dany walked closer. “What do you know?”

“That you must leave this place. Go back, and live the life you are meant to.”

Dany’s eyes fell. “But I don’t know what life I’m supposed to live.”

“You do…” she smiled once more, nodding at her.

Her eyes opened. She was still in her sick bed, and her side was still sore. She swallowed, and attempted to sit up. 

“Don’t,” came Tyrion’s voice. “Allow me to help you,” and he reached for her. 

Dany smiled. “Thank you.”

He aided her into a sitting position, minding both her side and her breasts. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit better. I think I’d like to get up soon.”

He nodded, and sat down. “I suppose we could arrange that.”

Dany smiled. “I had an odd dream just now.”

“Did you?” he sat back. 

“Yes. But I…” she paused. “Tell me, Tyrion Lannister. How close were we?”

It pained him to hear her use the past tense. He swallowed his reaction. “As close as I’d been to anyone.”

She nodded. “And I know that I met you before I came to the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Yes that’s right,” he paused. “Why don’t you tell me everything that you remember.”

She sighed. It wasn't so much that she couldn’t remember anything, more like, she wasn't certain what order they occurred. 

And Tyrion, she was certain, was important to her. But she couldn’t recall why or how. 

“It’s like pieces of a puzzle. As though I have pictures in my head of things, but I don’t know where they fit,” she looked at him and smiled. “For instance, I know that I was married, and that my husband’s name was Drogo, and that he is dead. But I don’t know how he died…” she stopped. “And there are dragons…” she whispered. “And…” she placed her hands on her face. “I recall Jorah, but I don’t know how I know him,” her hands fell. 

“So…it isn't just me that you don’t remember?” there was some relief in his voice.

“No. And I do remember you. I just…my memory is incomplete, I suppose.”

He nodded. “Well, we can work with that, Daenerys. You see, I am a storyteller. In fact, one of the things you most enjoyed about our time together was me telling stories. So…I can help you piece some of these things together for you. And whatever I don't know, which, I assure you is not very much,” he smiled. “We can have some of your friends at King’s Landing fill in.”

She laughed at him. “You’re witty.”

“I try to be.”

She looked away. “Was that something that I liked, too?”

“I believe so.”

She nodded, and played with the blanket, then looked once more. “I’m glad that you’re here.” And then the door opened, and Dany saw a very tall red haired woman enter, and she immediately felt a threat from her. “Who are you?” she spat.

“Daenerys,” Tyrion said with an admonishing tone. “This is Lady Sansa Stark. We are her guests here.”

“Your Majesty,” Sansa curtseyed. “I’m so glad you’re awake,” she looked at Tyrion. “Ser, King Jon sent me to ask your counsel about a very particular issue.”

“Sansa Stark,” Dany repeated. The name meant something to her, and she was associating it with danger, or something threatening. But the Lady hardly seemed such. “Thank you for your hospitality. Tell me, how long have we known one another?”

“Not long, Your Grace,” she replied.

Dany nodded, then looked at Tyrion with a questioning gaze. He returned it, then said, “Sansa, perhaps you might bring the Maester in. We are anxious to get her Grace on her way back to King’s Landing. I will be leaving Her Majesty shortly and can speak with the King afterwards.”

“Of course,” and Sansa bowed to the both of them.

“She is a sweet girl, Dany…” Tyrion said after she left. “You liked her.”

“I suppose I did. But there was an immediate reaction I felt when she entered. Perhaps I had confused her with someone else.”

Tyrion looked at her crookedly. He knew that Dany liked her, but he also knew that she had been jealous of Sansa…something he was confused and flattered about. “What do you recall about me in particular, Your Grace?”

“I recall…” she looked at him very steadily, and then closed her eyes. “You were on the ship to Westeros…you are with a cup in a room full of maps…I know that your brother killed my father,” she looked at him. “But that fact doesn’t seem to matter to me very much,” she added with a lilt.

“No, because Jaime explained that your father had lost his mind, and was threatening to kill all of his subjects,” he thought he’d explain about Bran when she was stronger. 

“Oh,” Dany vaguely replied. “And…” she closed her eyes once more. “And…I recall that I made you my Hand. Which is a trusted advisor,” and she smiled at him.

“Quite right,” he nodded. “Anything else?”

She strained her mind, but there was nothing, save that warm feeling…she could trust Tyrion. That she knew. “No.”

“You knew that you are Queen of all that you see?”

“Yes.”

“That you are the mother of dragons?”

“I am…” and she remembered her dragon eggs, and them hatching in a bed of fire…and her dream wherein she thought her babies were near… “I remember…”

He smiled. “Good. Now, that is a start. We can continue tomorrow.”

“But I want to continue now,” Dany protested. It was infuriating not remembering…and she rather liked speaking with Tyrion.

“Oh, but Your Grace. I need to speak with the King of the North,” and he stood. “I’ll return shortly.”

“And we will continue in this manner?”

“No,” he smiled. “I shall tell you a story.”

Dany swallowed, but nodded; and Tyion bowed, leaving her.

She felt like a child, needing to be told who she was, what she had done…the list went on. She shifted, and she swung her legs around to the edge of the bed. Her side pulled and ached with the movement. 

She breathed deeply and stood…

…and her injury screamed. She gasped, and swayed on the spot. 

…and her mind went back, how far she did not know, but she was reminded of a sick bed wherein someone lay, and she was there, speaking with the Maester in a dismissive way. 

She looked around…it wasn't here. It was another place…

Dany gathered herself as best she could and went to the fire to sit down. How odd that she should not remember so much after an injury which did not involve her head. 

And how odd the dream she had…that woman was not someone she could ever recall seeing. 

“Daenerys?” she heard Tyrion’s voice and she turned, smiling at him.

And his heart fluttered a moment, for it was that smile which she seemed to reserve almost exclusively for him. “You weren’t gone long,” she said.

“No, well…what sort of Hand would I be to leave my Queen alone for long?” he sat opposite her. 

“And are you going to tell me one of your famous stories?”

“I am…but first, how is your wound?”

She dropped her eyes, and felt her side. “It hurts. But is bearable.”

He nodded. “You saved my life,” he said.

Dany shrugged. “I must have had good reason.”

He laughed. “I cannot fathom what.”

“Nor can I, but I mean to discover it.”

He cleared his throat and withered under her steady stare. “Well, shall I begin?”

Dany nodded and pulled her wrap close.

“There was once a princess…born of a very great and terrible King, born of a kind and loving mother. Before she was born, there were warnings of a storm. The crows had been behaving oddly, the citadel sent word that the people of Westeros must prepare for the worst storm in twenty winters.

Now, this was not winter. It was spring when the babe was born. It is known that spring carries with it many floods, but a storm such as this…not so much,” he smiled at her. “Preparations had been made to welcome the princess, but the direness of the storm had taken precedence. The Queen had felt her daughter’s persistence, and the Maesters set the birthing rooms. Outside the wind howled, the rain smashed the windows, and even ice fell. It was said that the animals were wary and hid in their caves, away from the storm’s eye. 

And the Queen laid in wait for her daughter, while the handmaids ran about and the nurses tried to comfort her.   
And then, just past midnight, in the middle of spring, a snowflake fell onto the Red Keep, and the baby was born.   
There was a rumor that the moment the princess entered the world the ground shook. 

Now, though the Queen loved her daughter, the gods saw fit to take her…the labor was difficult, and she needed to move on. 

Her husband, the King, wrought with grief went mad beyond repair, and those who cared for the baby swept her away to far away land…a place where she might grow and live without fear. 

Of course, this is impossible. Fear is inevitable, and this Princess knew it as she aged. She knew, and she still believed in the power of love in an unfair world.

The storm she was born to raged inside of her, and she was known as a force.  
But she wanted love for her own, much like everyone,” he stopped.

Dany was transfixed. “You told my birth story,” she said.

“Was it?” he smiled.

Her eyes fell to her lap. “I believe so,” she said softly.

“Well…but it is a good story, I think.”

She nodded. “I’d like some wine.”

Tyrion stood and poured her some from the table between them, then handed it to her; Dany sipped it and then looked up at him.”Will you not join me?”

“Alas, I cannot. I made a promise not to.”

“You did? To whom?”

“Well,” he sat once more. “To myself mostly. But it my brother Jaime, and to the gods.”

“You’ll never taste wine again?”

He shook his head, never leaving her face.

“But…” she was confused, for she distinctly remembered him holding a cup of wine. “How long ago did you make this promise?”

“Mm…just over a day ago.”

Dany nodded. 

“Come, Your Grace. Time to see you get your rest,” he stood, and he offered her his hand.

“But I’m not sleepy.”

“Well, we should be leaving for King’s Landing soon, and you’ll need to be strong for the journey,” he guided her to her bed and sat next to her once more.

“You’ll stay?” she asked, pulling the covers up slowly.

“Of course,” he sat. 

And before long, she was asleep. He wondered how much longer he’d need to play along. It was a frustrating thing, this. He wanted only to hear her tell him again that she loved him…that they’d be married.

To think that he waited as long as he did…

In all of this, he had learned much.

But no lesson stung so much at present than learning that life is precious and fleeting.


	32. Chapter 32

Dany was kept at Winterfell for three days, and Tyrion was quite anxious to get back on the road. The weather was such that the week long journey would be more than taxing.

He had thought about sending for Drogon, but then thought the better of it. He wasn't certain that she had the strength to stay on him, and if she was with child, it might be inadvisable to have her flying about hundreds of feet in the air.

He wasn’t certain if Viserion would accommodate both him and her, though he had considered that, too. 

“We leave an hour before daybreak tomorrow,” he was saying to Jon Targaryen. “The Queen needs to return to King’s Landing before it’s impossible to do so,” and he took a sip of the dark drink northerners consumed. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't wine.

Jon was looking at him crookedly. “And does she remember you yet?”

“Not exactly,” and someone attempted to fill his cup. He put his hand over it, shaking his head. “She remembers some things…particulars are what seem to trip her up. She has general ideas about almost everything, and once she is reminded, her memory flows.”

“So when do you plan on telling her that the two of you are engaged?”

Tyrion’s jaw set. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it will come as a shock to her, and I don’t want to shock her when she is in a precarious position…very injured, possibly pregnant?”

“She loves you, My Lord,” Jon objected. “Why would your engagement be anything but good news?”

“Because she does not know that she loves me. I need to remind her.”

“Tyrion is right, Jon,” Sansa said. “It won’t be long. She will remember, and then she will be pleased. But I think…I’m not sure, but I think that to tell her prematurely would be upsetting. If there was not the possibility of a baby, then I could understand telling her now. But if she is gradually reminded, then there would be no shock.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” Tyrion nodded to her. “When is the wedding in the North?”

And Jon spit out his drink. “Pardon?”

Sansa laughed heartily. 

“Oh, come now, Jon Targaryen. Everyone knows. Best get on with it.”

Jon blushed as Sansa held his hand with a loving smile. “We have not discussed it.”

“Well,” Tyrion sat back. “You’ll need to wait a bit, since the snow is falling thickly now and there is little to no daylight. I imagine in a year or so, if Bran is to be believed, you’ll have the opportunity to have the ceremony with the sun,” he smiled.

“Will you be quite safe, My Lord, traveling in the dark?” Sansa asked with a serious tone.

“Oh yes. All will be well. As long as the wind isn't too strong, we will be fine to travel expediently.”

Sansa nodded. “We’ll miss having you here every day, but I understand you need to get back.”

“Yes,” and Tyrion stood. “Well, as it is now, I should get packed. I’d like to leave in a view hours,” and he bowed, taking his leave.

Winterfell’s torches were ablaze, and there was a decidedly cozy feel despite the stone and the chill. He headed to Dany’s room, wondering when or indeed, if, she would be remembering him as her lover. 

He opened the door slowly, and saw her up, and sitting by the fire. 

She turned toward him and smiled widely. 

He found it unsettling that the normally very decisive and assured Queen was so unsure, but her smile warmed him. “Your Grace,” he said, closing the door behind him. “You’re up and about.”

“Hardly. I’m sitting by the fire,” she smiled. 

“Are you prepared for the journey back to King’s Landing?”

“I suppose so. Handmaids were in here a bit ago packing things up,” she looked around vaguely. 

He sat down. “Things will get easier, I promise.”

She shook her head. “I can’t see how. How can I rule in the state I’m in? I feel so impotent. So at a loss.”

He looked at her sadly. “I understand, but I’m here to help you.”

“Is it a long journey?”

“About a week.”

She nodded. “Well…I suppose I should take a turn about, stretch and exercise,” and she stood, feeling her injury slightly. It was healing nicely, though the bandages still needed changing daily. “Is Jorah…?”

“He was relieved of his head yesterday, Your Grace. His last words were of you, claiming his love and devotion, stating that he had never meant to harm you.”

“No. He meant to harm you…why?” she looked at him.

“Because you trusted me over him.”

She nodded. “Was he mad?”

“About you, evidently. You have inspired love in many a man, Daenerys,” he swallowed.

“Have I?” she asked vaguely. 

“Yes, indeed. Your beauty, your command, your wit…they all take a man’s breath away.”

She blushed. “You speak prettily. But I don’t feel beautiful, commanding, or witty.”

“How do you feel?”

“Confused and mute,” and she looked into the fire.

He sighed. “Come, I’ll help you with your last things before we leave, and I’ll send for the maid to help you dress. It’s quite cold out there,” he stood, and took her hand.

 

Dany waved at the Northern King as they left. He was a fine fellow, she liked him. He was certainly in love with Sansa Stark, she could see…

…and an odd vision popped into her mind…one of her and Sansa speaking in low tones, forces around…she had been trying to convince Sansa of something…

“Tyrion,” she said, as her breath fogged in front of her. 

He slowed his steed and fell into step next to her.

She was wearing the scarf he had given her. “What a lovely scarf, Your Grace. It suits you.”

Dany looked at it and smiled. “I love it…it’s warm and the color is just right. Do you happen to know where I got it?”

“I do, and I’ll tell you when we stop by the fire. Now, you summoned me?”

“Yes…I remembered something about Sansa Stark.”

“You did?”

“Mm…yes. I was speaking to her in a passageway in hushed tones, and I believe I was trying to convince her of something. You were right, Tyrion. I think that I did like her,” she smiled at him. 

“I know what you are speaking of. Not an hour before you were struck by Jorah’s sword, you were telling Sansa to tell Jon Targaryen that she loved him.”

“I was?” she looked away, trying to remember…She closed her eyes…Sansa was standing in a stone passage, in a nook, really…and she was fearful…and Dany was watching her, assuaging her concerns…they were looking at Jon. Her eyes opened. “Yes…I believe I recall something like what you describe.”

“It’ll all fall into place,” he said to her. 

Her head bowed, and she studied the back of her white horse. “I trust you,” she said. “More than anyone, I think.”

His eyes began to well…”I am yours, Daenerys. To command as you see fit. You can count on me not to lead you astray.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling at him. “I hope that I can be the Queen I was.”

“You will be better, for you have proven fallibility, and every ruler must learn that they are not indestructible…that they are a person, like all of us,” he paused. “Though, I cannot imagine you to be like all of us. You command dragons, and you can survive fire, unburnt.”

“Unburnt?” there was an echo in her mind…”Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, the Unburnt…” “Breaker of chains,” she muttered.

“Yes!” he said. “Just so.”

And she smiled.


	33. Chapter 33

Every time she moved, he opened his eyes.

It was impossible, this “sleeping” next to Daenerys. What was he thinking?

He sighed. He was thinking that he wanted to be near her…to feel her next to him…to think about how, not so long ago, they slept together every night…

He had to try harder…he simply wanted her to discover their love herself. Somehow it felt false to tell her outright, and he couldn’t bear the humiliation if she should laugh, or else call him a liar. 

So, the alternative was to have her gradually realize that they were in love. That she was possibly carrying their child. 

And he rolled his eyes, and sat up.

What an impossible situation to be in! Utterly preposterous. 

“Tyrion?” she said.

He looked at her and smiled. “Did I wake you?”

“I’m not sure. Are you all right?”

“Of course I am,” and he patted her hand. “Go back to sleep. A long journey awaits us tomorrow,” he paused, and looked at the tent, attempting to discern some light. “Or today, depending on the time.”

“This is so frustrating!” she lamented, sitting up. 

His brow furrowed as he looked at her. “What is?”

And Dany stood, taking another wrap and pulling it around her. “You treat me like a child!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Though of course, I’m behaving like one, am I not?”

“Your Majesty, you’ll need to speak more plainly.”

She sighed and looked at him. “I know that I am to be behaving in a very specific way, but for the life of me, I cannot. I’m terrified, and I know, from the way in which I am experiencing this terror, it isn't something I am accustomed to.”

He nodded. This was true.

“And so, I’m left feeling scared and shameful, and you are the only person I feel I can trust, but you…” she paused. “You treat me differently than the others.”“How? What do you mean?” and he swung his legs around and stood.

“…not merely a Queen.”

“Not merely a Queen?”

She nodded.

“What more, then?” and his heart beat quickly, for he felt as though she was on the cusp of remembering.

“Well, you’ve said that we are friends.”

“Yes…”

“Perhaps that’s what it is.”

He closed his mouth, unaware that it was open, and smiled. “Of course.”

“Should friends treat one another like children?” she smirked at him.

…and there was the Dany he remembered, and his heart swelled…”Only if they are behaving as such.”

“Am I? I hope that I’m behaving as a Queen should.”

“Well, for the most part, I’d say so. But there is something wanting in your behavior.”

Her eyebrows went up her forehead in surprise. “Indeed?”

“Yes,” and he turned away from her. “One would like some assurance from their monarch.”

“I’m attempting to…”

“…and,” he continued, facing her now. “Unhindered trust in their Hand. Which, by some measure, you lack.”

“I trust you,” she whispered.

“Then get your rest, Daenerys, and know that I am only acting in your best interests.”

She blushed slightly, which Tyrion took note of, and she nodded. Dany climbed back into the bed and covered herself. 

“Does your injury bother you still?”

“A bit,” she said. “But I can tolerate it well enough.”

He nodded. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes…” she paused. “I’m sorry if you sleeping here was uncomfortable for you.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Who is Daario?” she asked.

He started. “Pardon?”“Daario. He was in my dream. The one just now.”

Tyrion swallowed. “He was…” best just to come out with it. “He was a lover you took while in Essos.”

Dany paled, then sat up. She racked her brain to remember him…what he looked like in her dream. “Was I in love with him?”

He cleared his throat as she looked at him hopefully. “Your words were, ‘I just left a man who loves me. A man who I thought I cared for, and I felt nothing.’ And then we left for Westeros.”

“Oh,” she replied. “I suppose not, then.”

“No. I don’t think that you did.”

Dany worried her lip, wondering why she would dream of, and smile at, Daario, if she didn’t love him. This, then, perhaps was not the key to understanding the missing piece she was searching for. “Shall I just get up, do you think? Will the camp be leaving?”

It pained him to hear her question even a most basic thing like getting up for the day. Daenerys would never have done such a thing. “I’ll see where everyone is, I don’t know the time,” and he left.

Tyrion pulled his cloak around him and walked outside where the men were slowly rising for the day. The chill was deep, and the sun, barely a sliver of pale light on the horizon. The days were no more than four hours long, and they would travel for at least six or seven before making camp again. He stopped one of the men, “Are we readying? The light just there won’t last.”

“Yes, My Lord. Within half an hour we should be off,” he bowed.

“How’s the patient?”

Tyrion turned and saw Jaime there, extinguishing the fire. “She’s…the same,” he replied mournfully. 

He nodded. “She’ll remember, you know.”

“But what if she’s changed her mind? She’s so…” he paused. “Different. Perhaps I should let her go.”

“The same, different. We all are those things, Tyrion. The fundamentals will remain there, brother. She loves you. And think of the child,” he ended in a whisper. 

“How can I think of the child when she is barely there, and there may not even be a child?”

“You must operate as though there was. Come, Tyrion. You are a good sort. Prove it,” and he nodded and left. 

Tyrion sighed. “Prove it,” he muttered. “Why am I always proving everything,” he whined. “When will everyone else prove things?” and his eyes found a carafe, sitting in a bag, ready to be packed away…”And there she is. What you wouldn't do to quell my worry,” he sighed once more and went to his own tent to pack up his things.

 

Dany’s mind was a rush of images the next few days as she sat atop her mount. It seemed as though her brain was going at full speed, and her mind’s eye could barely keep up. She saw her husband, her brother wearing a melting crown of gold, she saw her dragons hatch while she sat next to the burning funeral pyre…so many images of time long past…she was nearly dizzy with it. “How much longer until we reach King’s Landing?” she asked one of the men.

“But another day or so,” he replied with a nod.

She looked out into the expanse. Westeros was very big. But the place where she came from was bigger. She was Daenerys Stormborn. She needed to remember herself, as Queen of this realm.

Her back straightened and she concentrated on the images filling her head. There was a sense that she needed to remember herself once she reached the capital, though this was self imposed. 

The nights spent by the fire were filled with laughter and Tyrion’s stories. She would laugh and after some time, excuse herself…and she would think of him when she retired. 

There was something about him that drew her in…his wit, his wisdom…she felt relief when he was near, as though he would make everything better. 

Her gaze fell, and the foremen yelled, “Camp!” and everyone dismounted. She looked around for her Hand…

And saw him, speaking with his brother. She pulled her scarf close and began to take her things down from the horse. 

 

“Now, there are many ways in which one might interpret these happenings. None of which I can divulge without appearing to be a complete knave and idiot,” and they all laughed at his joke.

The company were sitting by the fire, the sun long gone, listening to Tyrion spin tales. The air was a bit warmer now that they were further south, and would likely reach the Red Keep soon. The travel had been harrowing and tedious, but part of Dany wanted it to continue. She was wary of her arrival, for she felt as though there were things she still didn’t remember, and she felt incomplete. 

“Tyrion,” she said after the laughter died down. “Might you aid me?” and she stood. 

He nodded and followed her, and the men whispered to one another.

She was standing with her back to him in her tent, and she heard him close it up. “How can I be of service?”

“You know things, I’m certain. You know what I’m missing in the puzzle of my memory.”

He didn’t respond. 

She turned toward him now. “I’ve had dreams…and my dreams are laden with meaning. They are of a night sky…of a woman I’ve never seen before. Of Drogo, telling me I have unfinished business…Of a lion’s roar. What does this mean, Tyrion?”

“I cannot say, Your Grace,” and he really couldn’t.

She rubbed her face. “I think you can,” and she looked at him now. 

He appeared to be nervous to her. “Daenerys, when we reach the Keep, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Why not now?” she cried. “It’s awful, not being certain of who you are. Of what you’ve done.”

“I cannot even imagine.”

“Please,” and she knelt before him, drawing his gaze downward. “Please…tell me what I’m missing,” she paused. “Or is it too plentiful? Am I nothing as I was?”

His heart ached. He touched her cheek. “You are everything you were…just clouded, Dany.”

And she touched his hand…closed her eyes…and there was a spark of recollection, as though she had felt this touch before. Her eyes flew open, and she seized his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked.

“You…” she searched his face. And she rocked back, letting go of his hand, and stood on her feet. “I need a moment, Tyrion,” and she turned away from him. 

She didn’t hear him leave, but knew that he did, for she no longer felt his presence. Dany swallowed…

And she struggled to remember him, Tyrion, and who he was to her…

 

The Red Keep loomed large in front of them, and Dany really felt little. She had been hoping that it would represent a sort of homecoming, but no…

She felt next to nothing.

It was nothing like home…nothing like what she imagined it would be. 

“This is where I live?” she asked Tyrion. 

He looked over at her, and saw the bitterness etched in her face. “It is, Your Grace. But it has been for so short a duration, that it makes sense that you wouldn't view it as such.”

“You live there, is that not so?”

“I do.”

She nodded and rode ahead some. 

She had been a bit distance their entire ride that day, and Tyrion knew that he must be forthright with her. He knew that she should be told the truth about their relationship, though his original idea of her discovering it herself was still his primary plan. 

He went inside the Keep and nodded to Missandei. “How are things, Missandei?”

“Well enough. But how is Khaleesi? She seems not herself. I thought that the battle had been won.”

“It was, but she lost her memory afterward,” he looked at her as they walked down the hall toward his rooms.

“What?”

“Jorah Mormont paid a visit at Winterfell, and he attempted to rid me of my life. Daenerys stepped in front of his blade and he struck her. In her recovery, it was discovered that the trauma had robbed her of much of her memory.”

“Incredible. But how did he know you were there?”

“That I cannot answer,” he placed a hand on the handle to his rooms.

“Should I visit her?” and she looked down the hall toward the royal chambers.

“If you like. I’m quite tired, Missandei. I have a long day ahead,” and he opened the door.

She nodded and walked toward the Queen’s room.

 

Dany was standing in front of the lit hearth. This, she felt slightly familiar with. There was a definite feeling that she had done this before. She looked around her, and took off her outside wraps. 

There was a knock, and her mind immediately went to Tyrion…and she smiled. “Come in.”

“Khaleesi,” and Missandei walked toward her. 

Dany observed her with a thoughtful eye. “Missandei,” she whispered. 

“I’m so glad you’ve returned, and you were victorious,” she took Dany’s hands. 

“Yes,” she said vaguely. “Have you heard about my failing memory?”

She nodded. “It’s awful, Your Majesty.”

“Call me Dany,” and she dropped her hands away and walked toward the window. “What do you know of my relationship with Tyrion Lannister?”

“I know that you are close with him. That you trust him.”

Dany nodded. “What else?”

“I…” Missandei paused. “What are you asking me?”

Dany turned toward her. “Please summon my Hand, Missandei.”

She sat by the fire as her friend, the interpreter, fetched Tyrion. She sat back…things were beginning to make some sense now…now, as she sat in a familiar chair. 

Now, as she recalled being tied to this chair in some stupor…

“Your Grace?” she heard his voice.

Dany swallowed. She looked up at him. “I fancy some fish stew.”


	34. Chapter 34

“Fish stew?” he repeated, and his mouth felt dry.

“Yes,” she stood. “What time do the markets close?”

“I’m not…” he looked vaguely at the window…she was remembering…he was sure of it.

“Well, we’ll just have to risk it,” and Dany took her cloak which was draped over the chair and wrapped herself up in it. “You’re coming, Tyrion. Best ready yourself.”

He nodded and turned to leave. 

“I’ll meet you by the gate,” she called out.

He clicked the door shut, and felt his heart racing. She was remembering! And she was attempting to return to their first outing…and she seemed so like herself, commanding and self assured! This was what he had been waiting for. 

He took his cloak and tied it, King’s Landing wasn't as cold as most of their journey, but cold nonetheless. 

He began to walk down the hall in a hurried manner…

“Where are you off to, Lord Tyrion? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you move so quickly.”

He rolled his eyes, sighing. “Varys. You really have impeccable timing,” he turned with a half smile.

The eunuch reached him with a coy smile laced in his features. “Well, I was just looking for you, and there you were, running in the opposite direction. Shall I join you?”

“If you must. But I am in a hurry,” and Tyrion began to walk.

“So I see,” he fell into step. “You defeat the Night’s Armies, and make Daenerys Stormborn fall in love with you. What else can have you so desperate that you need to run?”

“I did not make her do anything, Varys. Truly, you are exhausting.”

“Semantics,” he laughed.

“Surely you’ve heard,” he began, ignoring his reply. “You of all people, I should think, know of the Queen’s impediment.”

“Impediment?”

“Did you hear of Jorah Mormont visiting us in Winterfell?”

“I heard he had returned to this country.”

Tyrion laughed. “And he was your insect, all of those years.”

“Jorah lost his way some time ago, loving his Queen but lacking in knowledge. He was all brawn and heat. Daenerys had heat of her own, and had had brawn in Drogo. She required a mind,” he smiled.

“Yes, well. At any rate,” they turned a corner. “Jorah discovered her, discovered our relationship…”

“Ah…I see where this is going.”

“I assure you, you don’t. He attempted to strike me down, and our Queen jumped in front of me, getting struck herself.”

Varys stopped. “You’re joking.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

“How did I not know this?”

“Well, perhaps with the winter in full bloom, your birds couldn’t fly,” and he began to walk once more.

“And…was Her Majesty gravely injured?”

“Yes, she suffered a great blow, and Jorah suffered the loss of his head.”

Varys nodded. “Of course.”

“But what was more disturbing was the loss of her memory.”

“She lost her memory? Was her head struck?”

“No, that’s what was curious…it was her side. But she had no memory of our relationship, she was unsure how she acted…and there’s one more thing,” his voice fell. “There may be a child.”

And he stopped once more.

“You know, Varys, you saw me walking in haste, and yet you continue to slow me down. Why I ever walk with you is beyond my comprehension.”

“She lost her memory…” he breathed.

“Yes. Why?”

He looked away, shaking his head. “When Rhaella was newly pregnant with Daenerys, she lost her memory for some time. She took a fall, and during her recovery, she was plagued with strange dreams…and had difficulty remembering much of her life.”

“By the gods, Varys. That must be it.”  
“Yes. I think so.”

Tyrion looked toward the large front doors…”I need to get to her,” and he headed for the door.

“Tyrion!”

He turned.

“Congratulations,” Varys said, warmly.

He nodded, then went through the doors into the dark afternoon.

 

Her hands were shaking. And she didn’t know if they were shaking because she was angry, relieved, or anxious. 

Perhaps all of it.

It wasn't as cold…the air held some humidity here, so she was certain that she wasn't cold. It was really nothing in comparison to their travels on the King’s Road. 

And there was a hint of a cloud parting in the sky, for Dany had begin to remember her life. She had begun to remember herself. She had begun to recall…

…Tyrion, and everything that he was to her. 

“Daenerys?”

She turned. She smiled at him. “Hello, Tyrion.”

He cleared his throat and went over to her. “It’s a bit cold for a walk.”

“Mm…I disagree. Some warm fish stew and a look at the sky on the pier is just the thing,” she arched a brow. “Shall we?” and she turned. 

His heart raced…Just how much had she figured? 

They began their descent down the Hook, the place noticeably more empty than when they had previously walked, just a few weeks ago now. 

“Wine, Tyrion?”

“No, thank you My Lady.”

“Why ever not?” they then passed the first pub they had stopped at on their initial outing. 

“I’ve given it up.”

“Yes, you mentioned that. Why would you do such a thing?”

“I made a promise to the gods.”

She side eyed him. “It must have been something very grave indeed.”

“The most severe I can imagine.”

Dany looked at the ground as they walked. She wondered if she was the reason for his sobriety. The more she contemplated her relationship with him, the more she realized that it could have been nothing short of love. 

Further on still, and they passed the shop which he had purchased her scarf. “This appears to be a nice shop,” observed Dany.

“Yes…this is where…”

“You purchased this for me,” she indicated the scarf around her neck.

He nodded, then his gaze fell once more. “Daenerys…are you remembering things?”

She didn’t answer. 

“I believe the Mud Gate is not much further now,” he said to break the silence.

“No. Nor is…what was it…Symon Mae’s?”

“That’s it,” he breathed. 

They made their way through the rest of the Hook, down to Blackwater Bay…the Bay was partially frozen…and Symon Mae’s was not open.

Dany sighed. “No fish stew.”

Tyrion was watching her closely. “Dany…”

She looked at him. “What?”

“Please…tell me what you are thinking.”

Her face hardened and she turned, and walked toward the pier. The torches were blazing for the few ships which were anchored in the harbor, though no fishing was likely any time soon. She walked to the end and looked out…

…and the sky was clear, and the stars all shown in the black abyss of the heavens…and she saw a star fall, graceful and fast; it fell, and it bloomed a pinkish hue just before she fell behind the faraway cliffs in the distance…

Rhaella…

Dany closed her eyes, and placed her palm on her belly…

…and she saw her and Tyrion here, kissing on the edge of the pier, the flowers she bought, the night on the floor of her rooms…she saw them riding the dragons and she saw them at Wayfarer’s Rest, where he went to her, and they made love…she saw Castle Black and the horrors which they fought…and the night he agreed to marry her…

…and their daughter. 

Her eyes opened, full of tears. “I remember,” she whispered.

“What?” said his voice behind her. 

Dany turned and saw him, watching her with concern. “Tyrion,” she breathed. “She’s here.”

“Who?”

“Rhaella Joanna.”

He sighed…”You know, then?”

“Do you?” her brow furrowed in concern. 

“I suspected…”

Her lips became a thin line. “You allowed me to go along, you knowing and me desperate…and you claim to love me!” she spat. 

“I do…” he pleaded…”But I didn’t know what to do…and you were not yourself I did not know how to tell you.”

“You tell me! You tell me that we were in love, and that we were to be married…” her voice cracked. 

“Were…?” he swallowed.

She covered her face with her hands. 

“Dany…” he touched her arm. “Please, understand…I’m sorry. But I honestly didn’t know how to proceed.”

She dropped her hands but did not meet his gaze. “It doesn’t do to dwell on these things,” she said. 

“No,” and his own gaze fell. “I don’t imagine it does.”

Tears were rolling down her face…she laughed. “We are having a daughter.”

He shrugged and smiled meekly. 

“Tyrion Lannister,” her voice was strong. 

He looked at her. 

“We will be married, and Rhaella will be born at the darkest hour of winter, and she will usher in the end of it.”

“As you say.”

She smiled at him. “Let’s get back. And no bread this time…I’d much rather get to bed.”

He started. “Does that mean that you forgive me?”

“It does. But I’m putting you under review,” she smirked.

And this was the playful Dany he knew and loved. And he smiled widely. “Let’s go.”

The pair walked up the Hook, and this time it was full of mirth and laughter…and he knew that he had made the right decision, for though he had not been explicit, he had not abandoned hope. Ultimately he believed in their love, and that was what saved them both. 

Into the Keep, filled with lit torches and smelling of sweet bread and vegetable stews…Dany breathed it in, thinking about how much she wanted to taste some hot food, but how much more she wanted to be alone with Tyrion…

…Tyrion, whom she was connected with, despite his hesitation. Tyrion, whom she was not aware just how much she cared for, but always knew she did…and now, the father of their daughter…

Daughter…Rhaella Joanna…had been with her all that time, showing her presence to her. 

They went to her bedroom and Dany went to the hearth, now beginning to lose its light. She threw a log on the fire, and held her stomach. “I’ll protect you,” she whispered. She turned and saw Tyrion standing on the other side of the room, watching her. “Come,” she said, and held out her hand to him.

He walked over and took her hand, looking up at her. “What’s happening, Daenerys?”

“I want us to be married.”

He nodded.

“I want us to stay here this night.”

He nodded again.

“And I want some of that stew,” she smiled. 

He laughed. “Shall I fetch some for us?”

“Please,” and she dropped his hand and sat at a small table. 

He left her there, and she sighed. They would spend the night there, in one another’s embrace, and in the morning, she would begin assuring the Seven were well prepared for the winter.

And after that, wedding preparations.

She smiled, and looked forward to the stew.

 

Dany was sleeping soundly beside him. Her breath was even and deep. 

And he was stroking her arm softly, as she had it in a wrap around him. They had been passionate and deliberate in their lovemaking…it had seemed like so much time had passed. He had been careful with her, though not unduly so, for his own desire was acute. 

This last impediment was a draining one, but he felt empowered by it, for he had not despaired as was so often his tendency. He persevered and went on. 

He went on, and never gave up. He had changed…he felt, for the first time in…well. Forever, that he was loved utterly. Dany had convinced him of her heart just before Jorah struck her down…and he decided that that was worth fighting for.

That they were worth fighting for. 

He smiled. And he was to be a father…something he had never expected. A father to a young princess…

Tyrion kissed the top of his lover’s head, she sighed, and he smiled, closing his own eyes for a heavy slumber.


	35. Chapter 35

The next day, there was hardy any sun at all.

Tyrion woke just in time to see the bit of it, the very short lived bit of it…and he thought that it was a sorry sunrise.

He dressed himself and went to see if there would be a Small Council meeting. He rather thought that they should wait, but he was unsure of the state of the Seven, generally speaking, so he went to look for Varys.

He walked through the Keep, illuminated as it was with many torches, and thought that he had never been so pleased to be there. For the first time in his life he felt like he was home.

“And did Her Majesty sleep well?”

“Hello, Varys,” said Tyrion without turning, and continuing his walk.

“My Lord you have a distinct spring in your step.”

“Have I? Trust you to notice.”

He chuckled. “And when will the happy news be reported?”

Tyrion sighed a bit. “I have no idea. I imagine when it is verified by a Maester.”

“Wise. There will be grumblings of fraud, I’m sure.”

“What is in it for you, Varys, to have me linked in such a way to the Queen?” Tyrion looked at him now. “You’ve been angling for this since before I was scarcely aware of my own heart, let alone Daenerys’.”

“Well,” he struck a thoughtful tone. “I imagine that love is always better than fear. And that I’ve always been sympathetic to the Targaryen cause. And I happen to think that you are good for Westeros. There. Does that satisfy you?”

He shook his head, but held a smile. “There is little in life which really satisfies me, Varys. And since I have paid my dues and given up wine…”

“Pardon?” he asked.

“Yes, ’tis true,” and Tyrion paused a moment. “Many years ago I was told that I’d love more deeply than I ever imagined, but this love came at a price. I believe that the price was wine. It may not seem like much, but wine was so integral to who I was, I scarcely recognize myself without a cup of it in my hand.”

Varys appeared to be astounded. “So! You’ve abandoned it! I never thought I’d live to see the day…” he paused. “What caused this change?”

Tyrion slowed his pace a touch. “Dany was dying…or I believed that she was. And I promised the gods that I’d give up wine if she lived. So…I did.”

“I knew that you could. You merely needed to set your mind to it.”

He shrugged. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

They turned the corner. “Where are you heading, anyway?” Varys looked around. 

“To the Small Council room. There are things I need to attend to regarding the winter and keeping the Queen’s subjects safe and warm.”

“Ah, well, since I am a part of the council which you speak of, I can attend you there.

“Delightful news,” Tyrion replied sardonically.

“My Lord, you offend me,” he laughed.

The pair entered, and sat at the table. “What has been done to obtain wood for fires?” Tyrion asked as he looked at the papers sitting there.

“Some trees have been harvested, they are being dried in the warehouses, just at the end of the Street of Flour.”

“Very good. And what of the other Kingdoms? Are they gathering wood for their hearths?”

“As I understand.”

Tyrion nodded. “And what of the seamstresses? Are they busy?”

“They are sewing away, My Lord.”

“Good,” he sat back. “Well, it appears that things have been running rather smoothly in my absence. Her Grace will be pleased. All that’s left now is food.”

“Food?” Daenerys’ voice came in from behind them.

Tyrion turned, smiling. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Hungry?”

She approached the table. “Ravenous,” she replied. “Varys, might you fetch me something to eat?”“Of course,” and he stood, leaving the room.

Dany watched him go, a small smile on her face. She sat down across from Tyrion, and he noticed the blush blooming on her cheeks. Her eyebrows went up as she looked at him. “The Maester was in just now. He says that she will be born in nine months.”

“She? Is he certain?”

“No,” she smirked. “I am.”

He nodded, and lamented some wine. “Well, then. Perhaps we should begin wedding preparations.”

Dany smiled widely. “My Lord, we are simpatico. That is why I love you.”

“I hope that is not the only reason, for you failed to recognize my wit, my mind, my dashing good looks…” he smiled.

“But how could be so careless to my wise, noble, and handsome Lord?” she slunk out of her chair and slipped into the chair just next to him. 

“I suppose I could overlook your negligence, this time,” he said, looking at her mouth. 

“And generous at that,” she said, and claimed his mouth hungrily…

Deep their kiss was, as he feathered his fingers through her hair. He thought about pulling her onto his lap, but was wary due to her condition. “Dany,” he breathed as he pulled away. “Perhaps we should save this for later. You forget yourself, my dear,” he cupped her face in his hands. “We are planning our wedding.”

She was breathing heavily, but nodded. “A much more reasonable enterprise at the moment,” she breathed.

“Just so,” and he sat back. Though he was a bit disappointed in himself. He was having some fun…”Now, when should we…?”

“In a month,” she replied.

“A month?”

“Yes. The sooner the better, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh,” he looked questioningly at her. “Yes. Your Grace knows best.”

“I do, especially regarding this. I know that questions will need to be answered, and I would much rather have our marriage already in place than not, while answering them,” she paused. “And you shall be King,” she said softly.

“I…” he swallowed, and his gaze fell. He knew that this was true, though to have it spoken so plainly…it gave him pause. “Yes. I suppose that’s right.”

“Are you prepared for that, Tyrion?”

He looked at her. “I’m not.”

“Then you shall make a fine King,” she smiled. “No ruler who ever felt as though they were ready ever were.”

 

Dany was walking, though she felt as though she was gliding, down the hall, to the Throne Room.

She wasn't certain why she felt compelled to go there, but she did.

She entered the space, and looked at the Iron Throne, sitting atop its plinth, proud, hard, obstinate and vexed.

Dany crossed the room to it, never taking her eyes from it. It seemed to mock her as she did, but this was a battle she was ready for.

She had sat on it only once, when she was crowned, but that was in a crowd, now it was just her and him…for he was prickly enough to be male.

“I know you,” she whispered. “You held my father’s crown. You saw many Kings and Queens come and go. You are my destiny…and you will accept it,” she stepped onto the plinth slowly. Her fingers ghosted along the arm rest…cold and steel. “How I’ve longed for this…but never did I realize just what it meant,” and she turned and sat on the Throne. “It meant that I am responsible. That I am looked at for answers,” she touched her womb. “That you must be, occasionally, second,” and she sighed. She looked up at the hall. “But Westeros will be better because of you, young Rhaella…of that I am sure.”

Dany stood once more and looked at the Throne. 

She nodded, then left the room…

 

“Khaleesi! I am so happy!” Missandei hugged the Queen and kissed her cheek. “You are a great mother. And you will be a wonderful wife to Lord Lannister.”

“He will make a fine husband, you mean,” Dany pulled away, smiling. “How do you think the people will find it? The Lannister’s are not loved,” she sat down next to her fire in the Queen’s room. Her fiancee was still in the Hand’s quarters, though Dany sought to rectify that posthaste. 

“I do not know…we have seen only a little of the people of Westeros. Khaleesi’s lands are wide and plenty.”

“Yes,” she looked at the fire. “Where is Jaime Lannister? I haven’t seen him in many days.”

“He is about. He’s tending to the Queen’s guard as I understand.”

Dany nodded. “Send him for me,” she smiled.

“Right away,” and Missandei stood. “Khaleesi…?”

“Hm?”

“I…” she cleared her throat. “Grey Worm will be coming to you to ask permission for marriage.”

Dany stood, smiling at her. “Oh, Missandei! Congratulations!”

She bowed her head, blushing. “You mustn't tell him you know. He wishes to surprise you.”

“Of course.”

And with that, Missandei bowed and left Dany there to wait for Jaime Lannister, and she sat.

She thought that she should probably establish a positive relationship with her future brother and uncle to her daughter. She played with the hem of her sleeve…she was not nervous, per se, for she genuinely liked him. But Jaime was not easily touched. He was a difficult person to figure, for as she understood, he was motivated by love for his sister/lover, and love for his children with her, though to a lesser extent. 

And now everyone he cared about, apart from his brother, perhaps, were dead. That is a heavy load to carry. 

“You wanted to see me, Your Grace?” she heard his voice.

Dany rose and watched as he entered the room. “Hello, Jaime. Please sit,” she gestured for him to sit, as she did the same.

He did, and a confused look passed along his visage. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Why?”

“You appear different.”

“Do I? How?”

He examined her, then he sat back. “You’re happy.”

She laughed. “I am.”

“So it’s true, then? You're expecting an heir?”

Dany’s face fell a bit. “It is.”

“Well well. What does Tyrion say?”

“What should Tyrion say?” Dany returned pointedly.

Jaime smirked. “I would think that he’d be happy about the baby. Less than happy about the idea of being a father. Downright terrified at being a King.”

“Why would he be less than happy about being a father?”

“Because he has a poor example from which to draw.”

“Yes,” she cleared her throat. “That is true, but I think that he has gained some perspective about that and is now in a better place. I love Tyrion, and he loves me. He has everything he needs to be a good father.”

“In other words, you.”

“That’s right.”

Jaime shook his head. “And why did you require me now, Your Grace?”

“I wanted to know your opinion on remaining Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard.”

“I’m not sure of the fit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m not convinced that I could be of value to you.”

Dany studied him a moment. Then she stood. “You wish to return to Casterly Rock, then?”

“I think it’s best.”

“And what would you do there?” she turned and went to the window, looking out into the darkened skies.

He shrugged, but she did not see it. “Live out my days.”

“You are a man of action and a cunning mind. You honestly think that you can just live out your days in peace and quiet?” she turned toward him, her eyes flashing.

“I mean to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean to kill yourself,” she whispered.

He blanched, not responding.

“You cannot,” she said, approaching him. “Think of Tyrion, of your niece!”

“They’ll be fine, Daenerys. They would be better off…”

“Stop it now,” and she grabbed his hand, and pulled him to standing. “No one is better off dead. No one should ever believe that their lives don’t matter. You matter, Jaime Lannister. Your brother, the future King, adores you. Think of what that would do to him,” she searched his face for a response.

He seemed so defeated…standing there as he was, head slumped in shame. “I loved her, Your Grace,” he stammered. “I loved her, despite everything…she was my other self…as though I was incomplete…she made me whole. And I killed her.”

“For your brother!” Dany yelled, taking his face in her hands. “For Tyrion,” she whispered. “You killed her for him. I cannot let his savior end his own life. He is the father of my daughter.”

He looked at her sadly as she dropped her hands. Jaime Lannister appeared to be undone…undone in a way he had never been before. “How can I stay?”

…and for a moment, Dany didn’t now if he meant in King’s Landing or life…she was desperate…”How could you possibly leave?” she kissed his lips, and pulled away, tears in her eyes. “You are loved, and your family is growing. You are about to gain a new sister and a niece. You must stay at the Red Keep, and we will be a family.”

Tears fell down his cheeks. He swallowed. “You want me to be your Lord Commander?”

“I want you to be my brother. And yes, my Lord Commander.”

His back straightened. “I’ll stay, Your Grace,” he nodded, and turned. But he stopped after not getting very far. “What made you fall in love with Tyrion?” and he looked at her over his shoulder.

She smiled. “I was compelled. He is the perfect compliment to me…and I adore him,” she paused. “He makes me laugh.”

“That was the answer I was searching for. He makes you laugh,” Jaime faced her fully now. “Love isn't nearly as complex as most make it, Daenerys. Tyrion makes you laugh. That is enough in this world,” and he walked from the room.

Perhaps Jaime Lannister was right. Perhaps it was enough to love someone for making you laugh…

But there was much more to her love, she was certain. 

She had heard of being ready for someone who was to enter your life…someone who would change it forever…

Perhaps Drogo was merely a means to prepare her for Tyrion…

“Thank you,” she whispered to no one.


	36. Chapter 36

“My Lord, it’s time,” came his hand’s voice from behind him. 

Tyrion nodded. It was time. He straightened his jacket and looked at himself in the glass. He didn’t look half bad. 

They had done a fine job fixing his scar, his hair…and though little could be done for his height, his ugliness wasn't as pronounced. 

He left the Hand’s room and made his way to the Throne Room, where the ceremony would be held since the destruction of the Sept. 

He was quick about it, for nerves had suddenly begun to well, and he was concerned that they would surface during the ceremony. 

Not everyone in Westeros was supportive of the union, and many were not present. Of course, much of the country was ankle deep in snow, so there was that.

Winterfell only sent their regards, no representatives, due to the weather. 

Tyrion walked up the aisle, toward the plinth, and smiled at the Maester. He turned and looked at the company.

The room was just over half full, and there were some smiling faces there. Some not so smily faces there, too. 

He cleared his throat and waited for the bells to announce his bride’s arrival. 

…and they called out, softly at first, but they rose in tone and cadence…and Dany appeared in the doorway, her belly swelled with child…

And she walked toward him on the plinth. 

She was smiling…

And Dany thought that she was perfectly happy. Yes, perfectly so. Her daughter was growing and healthy, she was Queen of Westeros, and she was marrying the man she loved. How could she be anything but happy?

She knew that there were dissenters, that some people thought that Tyrion was being advantageous, but she knew that he was true. No one who saw what he went through to arrive at the place he was could believe him to be false in any way. 

The only thing now was to find a new Hand, for Tyrion could not be both King and Hand of the Queen. 

And she had no idea whom to ask. 

She walked up next to him.

They were to cloak one another in their family shrouds, for they belonged to each other equally, and as the sitting Queen, Dany thought it silly to have herself take the Lannister cloak and name.

So, she would remain Targaryen. He would remain Lannister, and Rhaella…they had not agreed on yet.

She had never felt more at ease, more comfortable with who she was, then at that moment. Dany had travelled far to reach that plinth, and she was going to savor it.

Not so with Tyrion, she could see.

He was smiling nervously at her, and she could feel the very real unease about him. She sighed inaudibly, and wondered if he would enjoy it. He was getting married, and she wanted him to be happy about it, especially since he was marrying her.

She caught his eye, and smiled. 

And he returned it. swallowing.

She was wearing a gown of powder blue and lace. There was some velvet, since it was so very cold, and her hair was wrapped in a braid atop her head. 

He thought she was a goddess.

And she likely was. Never had he ever known a woman like her…never would he meet her equal…

…and she was in love with him, and they were having a child. 

The Maester was saying words to him, though he heard but little. He merely nodded and said “Yes,” whenever it seemed as though he was being asked a question. 

And Dany, for her part, was stock still, a grin laced on her features…she was hardly moving, her breathing steady and slow. She was concentrating on his face, thinking that later that night, she would say everything that she meant to say to him there for the ceremony.

He cloaked her, she cloaked him…they belonged now to one another. 

“The Queen of Westeros, and her King!” yelled Maester Papas, and the crowd erupted in applause. She took hold of his hand, and through the dimly lit room, they walked amid the torches to the dining hall.

Tyrion had said very little, he was waiting for Dany to speak. She remained silent. 

There was a buffet of fine foods, which was a sight for everyone. Westeros had had little in terms of food diversity since winter. But not now, now there were fine chickens, and heaping pots of soup, breads, hens, and every type of sweet one could imagine. It was intensely grand. 

Dany smiled at it all, and she went to the head table with the King. “You are all welcome to eat your fill, and then some! Whatever we have as left over will be given to the citizens of King’s Landing,” she nodded, then sat. Dany looked at Tyrion…Tyrion, who was still standing there, looking at everyone. “Are you well, my King?” she asked.

He started, then looked at her, a quick smile on his face. “Fine,” and he sat. “I was only astounded by the level of merriment on display. I rather thought that we might experience some…pushback.”

“Pushback…?” and she scanned the room. “Do you mean…because I married you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I wouldn't be terribly concerned. The people are thrilled with the news of our daughter. Everything will be as I predict.”

He sat back with a smile, keenly aware of the crown resting on his brow. “And what did you predict, again?”

“That Rhaella will bring peace and prosperity, and the spring will begin with her birth. We have only a few more weeks of darkness. The sun will begin to show himself before long,” and she sipped some wine.

“Is that wise, Dany? Wine, with your baby growing in your womb?”

“It’s one glass, Tyrion,” she dismissed. “And this is the happiest of occasions. I am merely toasting it,” she smiled. “As should you.”

“Humph,” he replied. “I’d rather not be struck down by some angry gods.”

Dany shook her head, smiling widely…then her expression changed. She saw someone in the hall…”Daario,” she whispered.

“Hm?” and Tyrion looked…and yes. There he was. Just as dashing as ever, heading toward them.

He arrived, and bowed to them both. “Well, Your Majesties, never thought I’d see the day,” and he nodded. “Well done, King Lannister. Got me dutifully out of the way…”

“Daario, I command that you stop,” Dany replied with some severity.

“He knew what he was doing all along.”

“Incredible that you think so, seeing as how I scarcely knew my heart at the time,” Tyrion smiled.

“Well, it worked, and here you are,” he waved his hands. “Remember, Daenerys. What I told you about perfumed aristocrats.”

She smiled. “What news of Meereen?”

“Meereen is dull. But secure.”

Dany nodded. “It is good to hear.”

He sighed, and there was a pause. “Well. I think I’ll enjoy some of Westeros’s cuisine. I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure.”

“Have as much as you’d like,” Dany said. 

“Unfortunate that you said ‘as much,’ and not ‘whatever,’” he said with a steady look.

“As Her Grace’s new husband, and as the King, I really must object to your suggestive language, Daario,” said Tyrion.

“Oh, you can object all you like. I should have known…you are a Lannister.”

Tyrion smiled. “I don’t know how being a Lannister makes me fall in love with Daenerys, nor how you would know anything about my family. You’ve only ever met me.”

“I’ve heard stories.”“And therein lies your expertise? Dany, while I admire your intelligence, here is one place that it failed, I think. Daario hears stories and takes them as fact.”

“I’ll thank you both to stop now,” she replied with a smirk. “I can speak with you in a moment, Daario,” she dismissed him, and turned to her husband. “Now, I think that you might be a bit kinder to our warrior. He is in charge of Meereen, a place I claim to rule.”

“You should have kept him there, instead of inviting him,” he pouted.

“Now, come,” she stood. “He is a great asset to us. He needed to be here,” and she bent down, kissed his mouth softly. “I’ll attempt to assuage his mind,” she said, a glint in her eye. “And we shall eat, watch some fine people play…give a speech or two, and that will be that,” and she turned, leaving him at the table.

He watched her leave and sighed. Speeches. He only wanted to be alone with her. 

“Congratulations,” came a voice from behind him.

Jaime. Tyrion smiled. “Thank you,” and he turned and smiled at him. 

“So, King of Westeros. Tywin would be…”

“Flummoxed?”

He laughed, then sat where Dany had been. “Yes. I suppose that’s fair.”

“More than, actually, and more generous than he deserves,” and Tyrion sat as well. “But, it would have been grand to see his reaction to these goings on,” he sat back. 

“Will you not drink tonight, Tyrion? I was there when you made your promise, and I think that a sip or two won’t kill her.”

He sighed. “I’m afraid not. I cannot withstand the stuff, Jaime. One sip will turn into one thousand.”

Jaime nodded. “Your wife is quite a determined woman. She has convinced me to stay in King’s Landing.”

Tyrion was looking very steadily at him. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Confused. I am a lost man, Tyrion. I am trying, though, to be something else.”“What will you be?”

“Anything.”

Tyrion’s face fell. “But you are everything I always wanted to be, Jaime. Proud. A warrior…” he paused. “Tall,” he laughed.

“You, my brother, are so much more than any of that. And Daenerys Targaryen sees that. The Queen, she who has won the hearts of many men, sees that. You must learn to see it, too.”

“I do…but to hear you….” 

“Stop,” and he turned toward him. “I need to learn to live without Cersei. Something that I never thought I’d need to do. And it is a daunting thing. But I’m here, and I will try to be a good uncle to your daughter. She is the reason I remain.”

There were tears in Tyrion’s eyes. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then sat back again. “What will you call her?”

“Rhaella Johanna.”

Jaime then felt his throat constrict. “An excellent name.”

 

She was walking toward the royal suites, tired and wanting to be alone…

She would send for her husband shortly. 

Husband…and she smiled. 

How strange that she should be married again, carrying another child! She had believed she was meant to rule alone.

And Dany entered the room. 

Daario had been sad. A bit angry. But mostly confused. He couldn’t fathom why or how Tyrion, an imp, had won her heart when he didn’t.

Dany sat by her fire. 

How indeed…

She smiled and sat back…she had thought about this a lot, and what she discovered was that Tyrion was her friend…above all else, they were friends. He made her laugh, and he spoke plainly to her in an intelligent, and sometimes silly, manner. She trusted him. 

She enjoyed herself with him. How many people could boast that?

Dany looked into the fire. Perhaps her marriage, superseding convention, might spark others to make a similar choice for their lives…to marry purely for love. 

She sighed…she was no fool. She knew that she was able to marry Tyrion because she was the Queen and was able to do as she pleased, ultimately. This would not likely translate to others very easily.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called, snapping herself out of her reverie. And she heard someone enter the room…and she she knew it was her husband. “You needn’t knock on your own bedroom door,” she said, now turning toward him.

“I wasn’t certain that you wanted company.”

“I always desire my husband’s company,” she replied coyly.

He sat across from her. “It grows tiresome out there,” he nodded to the door. “I began to wonder at your absence,” he paused. “How is Darario?”

“Mm…he is…confused.”

“I should imagine so.”

She smiled. “Don’t be that way, Tyrion. Besides, he’s leaving in the morning, and it is doubtful we will ever see him again.”

“Why is that?”

“He has found himself a lovely maid in Meereen, and though is is spiteful, he is not dim,” she paused. “Not as much as you would make him, at any rate.”

“I would never…” he began, falsely aghast.

Dany held her hand up. “I care not to dwell on Daario. He is my past. You are my future.”

Tyrion swallowed, nodding. “As you like.”

She smiled. “I want to tell you everything that I was denied during the ceremony, Tyrion…there is much to relate.”

“Is there? I rather thought that you’ve been thorough…”

“No. Not nearly as much as I’d like…” and she leaned back, sinking into the chair. “I’m not one for verbosity, as you know. Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I find us so compatible,” she smiled.

“Yes. I can drone on…”

“While that’s true,” she laughed, “It is hardly the reason for my fierce and utter devotion. I love you, Tyrion, because I feel inexplicably and irreversibly connected to you. I felt that almost immediately, when I sought to keep you near as my advisor. I knew then that you’d do me some good…but never did I expect to experience what I have. And though my realization was a long and fraught one, it was a necessary journey. I had convinced myself that I needed no one, until I found that I did,” and she leaned close. “I need you.”

He smiled at her. “I believe that I would shrivel and die without you, Dany. And I thought that would never be granted that consuming love again, only to find it more desperately than ever.”

“You make me happy, Tyrion. Perhaps that’s all anyone needs.”

He got up and went to her, opening her legs, and revealing her swollen belly…she was not that far along, but enough that her condition was plain enough to see. He leaned into her and kissed her mouth, and when he kissed her, the world ended, and he was at peace…

They were laying in a tangle in the early morning hours. There would be no sunlight for at least a year, so said the citadel.

Dany knew better. The sun would shine in five month’s time. The day Rhaella would be born, the sun would shine.

And she laid there, her hand on her child, in a cuddle neck to her husband…

…utterly content.


	37. Chapter 37

The sky was blue.

That's what she saw as she ran toward the stream. She was wily enough that the low hanging trees were no obstacle, and she ducked her head in anticipation of them.

Spring had been steadily growing for a year now, and summer was nearly born. She was almost two, though she ran with the agility of an older child.

It was occasionally challenging for her parents to keep up with her, so they seldom let her run unattended.

But today they were allowing it, and she didn't know why, nor did she care. She was running…

The princess Rhaella Johanna Targaryen Lannister looked exactly like her mother, with curlier white blonde hair and a deeper voice, like her father.

She was adored by everyone who met her.

And Westeros was at peace.

She had heard that she had been the key to lasting peace. She didn't think much of that. Keys were made to open locked things.

Down she went to the brook lapping the stones in the water. She made it there, and slowly began to walk along the slick rocks, careful not to fall…

The sun was bright that day, but as she walked along, the foliage became deeper, and she had to squint to see where she was going. A very small opening along the bank presented itself, and the child bent her head to see inside. No one larger than she could have ever spied the hollow.

There was nothing save some very damp leaves, so she began to tug at them to clear them and see better, and perhaps make herself a crown with them.

After a few minutes, Rhaella found that the leaves were twined around something…she pulled harder, and the vines gave…

Harder still, and she pulled them off, falling back into the water.

Rhaella was delighted, and thought that she had enough leaves to make her and her mommy a crown!

But then, something caught her eye.

There was a glint of gold inside the hollow…she wondered at it, then crawled over.

Rhaella reached inside, and felt a smooth surface, cool, and round…she put the leaves down and reached in for the thing.

And when she pulled it out, she discovered that it was an egg.

Golden, purple, and rosy red colors were painted on it, and she fell instantly in love.

Rhaella forgot all about the crown and held her egg, nearly half her size, brought it up the bank.

She clambered up the hill to where her parents, the King and the Queen sat, picnicking in the warm sun.

She was thrilled, and knew that they would be, too.

"Mommy! Daddy!" she called.

Her mother turned and smiled at her, "What is it Rhaella?" there was a pause. "What have you got there?" and she stood.

"A dragon egg!"


End file.
